#and even still it just hurts knowing I don’t have it

[tonycries]

Unmistakably Yours - G.S.

Synopsis. In which the strongest bends space and time - literally - after coming back from deatḣ, to do what he’s always wanted to do - you.

Pairing. Gojo Satoru x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, best friends to lovers, Satoru goes a little (very) INSANE, oral (fem receiving), fíngering, manga spoilers, use of jujutsu powers, unprotected, créampie, spitting, overstim, féral Satoru, heinous things, happy ending, pet names, swearing.

Word count. 4.5k

A/N. Yeahhh that poll was cooking up something devious heheh. Gege give me back my man.

Gojo Satoru was going to kill someone.

He was going to kill someone and it didn’t matter who. It didn’t matter how. It didn’t even matter if he had to haul his broken body - scarred and barely-healed - out of this stiff infirmary bed, because the great Gojo Satoru awoke and the world shook.

Because you weren’t here.

“Ah. The oh-so deadest one, I see you’re awake.” Satoru flinches at the sharp, exhausted drawl from his left. 

Slowly, he blinks away the haze in his aching eyes, desperately trying to adjust to the cold room. Shoko’s voice was too loud. The lights too bright. His waiting arms too empty - where were you? 

With a low hiss, Satoru’s body is moving before his mind, sitting up like a man possessed. Goosebumps prickle his skin as the thin blanket falls off his shoulders. Temples throbbing because the world was spinning and spinning and you-

“Calm down, Satoru.” Shoko sounds almost panicked now - as much as she could, anyway. Uselessly trying to push him back onto the mattress. “I don’t care if you’re the ‘strongest’. Sukuna did a number on you and you have to rest-”

“Where is she?”

---

It was the final nail on your coffin - that slight, steady rumble beneath your feet. So fleeting that you’d written it off as your weary brain, too goddamn tired from today. Heaving out a sigh, you rub your eyes in frustration, so fucking alone in this too-large penthouse. 

Fingers jittery, you rifle through your best friend’s closet for his box of blindfolds, because you knew he’d be complaining about the sensory overload at the infirmary if- when he woke up. Though, you think that was more an excuse for Shoko to send your wrecked self away than anything. 

Grabbing a few more than necessary, your heart lurches as you eye that dusty framed photo by his bedside. A much younger Satoru, Suguru, Shoko, and you - probably the last time any of you smiled so carelessly. 

One dead and the other just on the cusp of it.

He’ll be okay. He’ll be okay. He’ll be okay. He’s the strongest, right?

Swallowing heavily, you try to put your mind to something - anything - other than the memory of that battlefield and the blood. So much blood. Everywhere. 

God, you should’ve stayed. What if Satoru-

That was when you felt it. 

The tight, uncomfortable feeling of atoms standing at attention all around you. The air was so stagnant and heavy that it was almost hard to breathe. 

You don’t know how you realize what it is - but you don’t get the chance to wonder about it either. Because the thought has barely even crossed your mind before everything else is thrown at the window at those two words. 

Hoarse, and whispered, voice ever-so-slightly cracking at the end. One you recognized, one you knew you always would.

“My love?”

Satoru.

It was a miracle that you didn’t get whiplash from how fast you whirled around to face the doorway - and it was an even bigger miracle that you didn’t trip at how your legs were carrying you to that tall, familiar flash of white hair without a second thought. 

Hell, you don’t think you’ve ever run this fast in your life, and it still wasn’t quick enough when Satoru engulfed you in his arms. Letting out a soft sigh as he hugs you tight enough that it hurt, like he never wanted to let go. 

All familiar warmth and a rapid heartbeat that matched your own. 

A shiver runs down your spine at that scent of the infirmary, tinged with something so dangerously metallic, miles away from the usual hints of pine and candy. But you only pull Satoru closer - not even realizing the tears staining his snug t-shirt, nails digging into his sculpted back. 

“S-Satoru?” you murmur wetly, as if you still couldn’t believe it - even when you were in his strong arms. 

It killed you to pull away, and Satoru wasn’t any better, pulling you firmly to his heated body with a guttural grunt as soon as you showed any signs of shifting away. Grip almost bruising, fingers tight on your hips. But you didn’t mind, why would you? 

Because the strongest was nothing under your will - he always was. And it’s only once you break the embrace just a fraction of an inch that you confirm that this actually was Satoru - your Satoru. 

“You’re here.” you breathe out unsteadily, not knowing where to look first - his heaving chest, as if he’d run all the way here, or those faint scars along his exposed skin. Jagged, running down his pale skin like he was too impatient - too distracted - to let them heal properly. Satoru’s face was scarily blank, pretty lips set in a tight grimace like every second you weren’t locked in his arms killed him. 

He doesn’t answer - like he didn’t know himself. Nervously, you raise your eyes to meet his and-

Oh, Satoru, he was here. Alive.

Looking like he was ready to make sure that no one else was.

You just wondered where they’d pile all the casualties. Too many to bury at Jujutsu High if those tiny blue flickers of lightning at the corners of Satoru’s eyes were anything to go by. 

Gaze hooded, pupils blown, he didn’t look at you with that usual warmth. No, he looked at you like a man that had crawled back from death just to rip you apart. And you had half the mind to wonder whether this was some special grade curse that had just come disguised as your best friend. 

“Are you okay?” you try again, raising a hand to cup his cheek. “Toru?”

Oh, you might as well have just signed your own will, because no sooner are the words out of your mouth before Satoru’s jolting. Like the mere sound of that stupid little nickname from high school was enough to shock him to his very core. 

Electrify him just enough to finally look at you like it was the first time. Like he was seeing you after a thousand years. “My love.”

There it was again, that quiet, strained little mantra. 

Followed very closely by the deafening slam! of the door behind him, so hard that you spy one of the hinges rattling off. Startled, you look over Satoru’s broad shoulders just to catch a glimpse of the single, large handprint charred into the wood, slight steam wafting from his hand.

Shit. He’s lost it.

Almost like the strongest has forgotten his restraint - or didn’t care about it either way. Heated, you wondered what this boded for you. 

Will you be lucky number one on his kill list? You wonder, as Satoru presses his mouth right above your pulse. Racing. Dangerous. Feeling the rapid thump! thump! thump! under his lips.

Breathing you in, dragging his nose up, up, up- He mutters into your skin, “Y’can kill me if you don’t want this.” Will you go down - if there’s anyone left to remember, that is - as the casualty that surely and officially signaled the honored one’s descent into madness? Only the second best friend he had to kill?

Or, Satoru pulls away slowly from his little haven, breath ghosting your lips as he gasps out a shaky, “No God can take me away without doing this.” Will it be something else entirely?

And then he’s kissing you - and you’re kissing him. 

Because fuck, how could you not? This is Satoru, and this is all you’ve ever wanted since those late night convenience store runs in high school, hand-in-hand and teleporting away from a furious Yaga.

The same Satoru that had cockily winked at you goodbye before facing Sukuna - leaving you crying with nothing to hold onto but those cold, cold hands and wishes that you’d have just fucking kissed him before. Maybe even put aside your pride to just tell him.

But none of that mattered now, because Satoru was so desperate - drinking you in like you were the last breath of air on Earth. Like it hurt more to part with your lips than it was to be cleaved in half.

Such a mess of teeth and saliva, and you were addicted. Drunk off his sweet taste - like candy, almost, and those cheap mochi he always got from downtown - and the electricity pricking at you each time your skin grazed against his.

It almost hurt - but it hurt so good.

Gasping, you pull away for air - impossible with the way Satoru was like a madman, kissing your swollen lips again and again and-

“Toru!” you squeal, muffled through his lips. “Aren’t you-” His mouth drops into a soft oh! at the delicate strings of saliva snapping in the non-existent space between you two. Surging forward like he couldn’t help himself. “Battlefield- mmpf- now?”

With a pained grunt, Satoru finally halts, just a hair’s breadth from your lips. And if you were in any better state of mind, maybe you’d have noticed the brief flicker of blue lightning all over his body. The way the lights flicker. 

“Special curtain.” he pants against your open mouth, a muscled thigh shoving between your weakening legs. “Time barely passes in here.”

You don’t know what your head is reeling more from his words or his hands - hands that kill - caressing you like a lover everywhere. Unable to decide between your hips, to your ass, to your pretty pretty face. Kiss-bitten lips uttering, “Everyone’s waiting for you.”

“So?” Satoru lets out a humorless laugh. About an octave higher than usual, like he was at the end of his rope now. Eyes hazy and glowing, looking as if it took everything in him to not just tear off that uniform and take you right now. 

“But-”

“Shut up and let me ruin you, my love.”

Your back is hitting the mattress before you can even start to wonder what the fuck is happening. One second standing at the doorway and the other all sprawled out on Satoru’s bed.

Besides yourself, you blurt out, trying to make sense of the situation to both of you two. “Did- did you just teleport us?”

“Don’t know.” he answers. And Satoru sounded like he genuinely didn’t know, as bewildered as you were. Powers acting before him - way, way before he can think - as he fists your shirt in his hands. “Don’t care.”

And you half wondered whether Satoru was even aware of what he was doing as he pulls, down, down down. 

Rip!

It tears through the air - both the sound, and the way he’s just pulling your shirt to shreds. All depravity and no repentance as Satoru throws it behind God-knows-where. Buttons hitting the floor at a maddening little rhythm to which he was slowly losing his sanity. 

He was kissing you like he was angry - taking it out on your poor clothes. Because before you know it, he’s pulling your bra off. Fingers searing on your skin, skirt just tatters on the floor. 

“Waited too long.” he groans, leaving wet, open-mouthed kisses down your neck. “Always wanted to do this.” And once he started, it was like Satoru just couldn’t stop, rambling into the valley of your breasts, “Ever since I first saw you and oh-”

That was it - only one look at your panties, all flimsy and drenched - and you’re back to wondering what Satoru’s kill count would be. You shudder as his eyes widen, letting out a strangled gasp from some deep, primal part of himself. Voice so broken and starved as he muses, “-can’t believe I waited this long.”

Shit. You weren’t making it out alive.

Immediately, Satoru’s dropping further down the mattress, easily pushing your knees up all the way till they were at your breasts. 

And it was so unfair. 

Unhair how he was still fully clothed, while you were spread so shamefully. Unfair how he was sliding his underneath your panties up and down, grazing your swollen folds. Up and down, up and down up and- Pooling your sweet sweet juices on his fingertips before pulling, marveling at how sinfully soaked they were. 

And it was like something snapped - maybe his whatever restraint he had left, probably you by the end of this. Because just a split-second later, Satoru’s tearing right through your panties. Not even taking a second to breathe before burying his pretty face into your dripping cunt. 

Unfair how you were liking it so dangerously. Being so used. 

And Satoru knows - he thinks, with whatever rationality he has left intact - that he wants to admire your pretty lil’ cunt. To finally drink in what he’s been dreaming about for years all these lonely nights. But, no, that’s for later - for a different Satoru, one that didn’t feel like he was going to fucking die if he didn’t taste you right now. 

“Ah! Hngh- T-Toru-” you arch into his hot tongue, as he licks erratically up your folds, long, sloppy movements of his tongue all the way from your base to your swollen clit. Lapping at your juices like he couldn’t stop.

“Tha’s right.” words muffled into your cunt. Throwing your legs over his sculpted shoulders. “Gimme more, use me. Use me- fuck fuck fuck- yeah.”

He sounded as delirious as you were already, flinching with each word spat into your sensitive cunt. Drunk off your pussy and so messy, like he was well and fully intent on ruining you. 

And it’s all you can do to sob so needily as he swirls his tongue around your sensitive clit. Seemingly unable to decide between sucking on it harshly and dipping into your sloppy hole. In and out. Wanting everything. Anything. 

“Fuck. S’too deep. Sh-shit.”

“Oh yeah?” he’s grinning, a cruel, cold little grin. You can feel it as he rolls his tongue against your clit over and over. “S’not deep enough.”

You pathetically try to close your legs around his head in shock, as the tips of his long fingers spread open your pussy further, teasing your entrance. 

But who were you against the strongest? The one that got everything handed to him on a silver platter since birth? Except you - until now, that is.

Because Satoru’s swatting thighs back open like it was a mere inconvenience, and feel your cunt clench in- fear? Anticipation? as you realize how gently he was throwing you around like a ragdoll, in comparison to that door from earlier. 

“No.” he sounds absolutely wrecked, babbling around your throbbing clit. “Need this- need you.”

And then he’s plunging knuckle-deep in your plushy pussy, so greedily that your slick is trailing down his wrist. Drinking in your pretty gasps of his name as he roams for that one spot he knows will have you seeing stars - only the best for his girl, right? The only thing on his mind right now, like a predator starved.

You can only tug on his hair and buck wildly underneath him, inching Satoru closer to where he was desperately searching for. Close - so close. 

“Toru-” you moan, like a prayer. 

But it wasn’t fast enough. 

Not for Satoru, at least.

Even through the haze in your eyes, you could make out that brief flash of electric blue in-between your legs, eyes widening as ah-

That cheat. 

You wondered if he even knew he was using his powers right now. Or whether Satoru was too far gone at this point. Way too smug with the way he hits that one spot. Hard. 

Ah, you quiver as something so dark sparks in his eyes. Looking like a man starved, that had finally come across his favorite meal. Moving with frightening accuracy as he pumps his fingers in and out, hitting it each and every time. 

“Shit, ngh-” you let out a shrill moan, “It’s too good. You’re so fucking-” 

One hand was so messy toying with your dripping entrance - the other digging into your hips. Dragging your sloppy pussy senselessly all over his mouth. 

Hard enough that you were sure it’d leave marks for tomorrow. If you even made it that long, that is, if the tiny shocks of electricity at his fingertips told you anything. 

Desperate. Violent, even.

So it only makes sense that your orgasm was the same. “Fuck- m’cumming m’cumming, fuck fuck fuck-” You’re shaking as you cum, crying out Satoru’s name and delirious little moans that you’d otherwise be embarrassed of. 

And he doesn’t stop. Not when you’re blinking your vision back. Not when you’re shying away from his tongue, the stars behind your eyes too much with each flick of his tongue. 

“S’too much- too- fuck, sensitive, Toru.” you whine, big fat tears clinging to your lashes. 

Ah, there it was again. Just when Satoru was beginning to think that he might just be veering into a state of mind that could be considered sane - you have to call him that goddamn nickname again. And it’s only driving him wild. 

Well, he muses, fumbling with the hem of his t-shirt, it’s really on you then. 

You let out a fucked-out little whine as Satoru finally takes his shirt off, revealing such milky, toned skin. All sharp curves and dips like he was sculpted so meticulously, going down, down, down and- Your breath hitches at the large, pink scar standing out of his torso, so uneven and fresh that you feel a fresh wave of tears - different ones, this time. 

You take a steadying breath, eyes unmoving from the injury. “Satoru-”

“No.” Satoru’s tone is firm, so different from the metallic tinkling of his belt. He was moving now, shifting in between your legs to kiss those tears away. “Need this. Need you. Need you need you need you so bad-”

“But your…” you trail off. The words catch in your throat as he finally unbuckles his belt, pulling down his pants just enough that his throbbing cock springs out, hitting his sculpted abdomen. Red, and so so angry, soaked in precum. 

He was so…massive. Now, you expected your best friend to have a big dick, but this was ridiculous. He was so intimidatingly long, thick enough that you could feel the slick beading out of your sloppy hole already.

Yeah, you definitely weren’t making it out alive. 

Satoru sees it too, of course, because his cock twitches furiously. A low hiss leaving those pretty pink lips before he’s spitting on your quivering cunt. Once. Twice. 

And you know that if this shameless bastard could use six eyes to find your g-spot, then he could’ve done the same for this. But, no, he lets some of it miss, splattering against your inner thigh, smearing all over as Satoru thumbs in his saliva with your slick. 

God, he was treating you like some object. Wordlessly throwing your legs over his shoulders, dragging his weeping tip down your swollen folds. So fucking filthy. 

And then you feel like you’re been split apart - because Gojo Satoru was unforgiving. As was his aching cock. He’s barely even pressing through the first ring of muscle, and you already feel like he’s pushing all the way into your lungs. 

“T-Toru.” you yelp, glancing down at the way your pussy was stretched so lewdly around his thick cock. Quivering as he keeps pushing and pushing and- no mercy. Absolutely none at all. “Can feel you so deep inside ngh- I don’t think I can…” 

“No no no no no-” he’s panting into your open mouth. Fucking into your heavenly cunt in mindless, shallow little thrusts just to squeeze deeper inside. “Need this. Want this. Always did. God, fuck fuck fuck, you can do it-”

“But-”

God, Satoru can’t help but kiss you - to shut those cute lil’ whines up more than anything, he’s sure he’ll cum right there and right now if he didn’t. 

Because Satoru wasn’t any better. Body bowing into yours, eyes rolling to the back of his head, mouth falling into a delirious oh! as he finally bottoms out. Balls smacking your ass too hard, your pussy too tight, you too beautiful underneath him. 

Blindly, he reaches for the headboard - white-knuckling it so hard that it’s a wonder it doesn’t break. 

It does - and later you’ll find a pile of splinters behind the bed. It’s just that neither of you notice. Too high off the feeling of Satoru’s cock pushing inside you. You’re clawing at his back now, gasping for air. Letting him fold you in half to filthily lick away the tears pooling at your cheeks. 

“Shit- y’got this, my love. You gotta- ah- Breathe-” he can’t even speak properly, sharp tongue so heavy. Eyes glowing with such insanity as he rocks his hips harder into yours.

He was right - you needed to breathe. To finally wrap your head around the fact that this was Satoru - your best friend - the same one that binge-watches sappy rom-coms with you after every breakup. Every. Single. One. Somehow, you wouldn’t have it any other way. 

Both of you were barely-lucid at this point. And he was out of control now.

Funny, how in all his dreams when you were screaming his name - Satoru was always suave, methodical, playing with your pretty pussy like a fine instrument. Right now, he was anything but. Sloppy - like he didn’t have enough time, never would, even in this room where time slowed.

“Don’t you run away.” he grunts at the way you’re so adorably torn between running away from his cock and bucking for more more more- “Waited twelve fucking years for this. N’ m’gonna take it.”

You almost sob at the pressure as he laces his fingers on top of your head to slide you impossibly deeper. Down, down, down. “S’too good, Toru. Wan’ more-”

“More.” Satoru breathes, more to himself than anything. Eyes widening almost comically, a fucked-out smile spreading all over his face. “Y’want more even when you’re filled to-” He traces an invisible line halfway down your tummy. “Here?”

“Yes.” you gasp as he reaches down to toy with your throbbing clit, drawing tight, frenzied little circles. Balls smacking your ass so painfully, thumb pressing down right where his tip was hitting your cervix - as if he used six eyes to see. “Always wanted more. Always have, Toru.”

And you swear you could see something physically snap inside Satoru. Because his eyes glaze over, grin dropping instantly from his face. 

If you weren’t so cockdrunk maybe you’d have caught the way the bedroom lights flicker, the one down the hallway bursting. 

“Always, huh?” he’s muttering, grip on your body tightening like a vice. “Wanted more like me?” Rocking into you so sloppily, cock twitching so painfully as he speeds up. Fingers just as desperate - as depraved as his hips.

And this time, he doesn’t even have to use six eyes to find that one spot. Knowing your body well enough to hit it over and over until you were sobbing. “More more more more- fuckin’ take it then.”

At this point you didn’t know whether Satoru was always this ruthless in bed or you’d just broken him. It felt so good that it was almost scary. And your delirious mind wandered into the thought that maybe the bed would break - and your bones to follow. 

Well, they would have if Satoru hadn’t been using reversed cursed technique. But you didn’t need to know that just yet. 

“Satoru-” you squeal as he only gets more erratic.  “I’m…”

“Close?” Satoru’s grunting, smacking his lips against your own.

It’s laughable, really, that muffled question - because Satoru knew you were close. Losing his fucking mind, actually, at how you were squeezing so hard around him. Balls squeezing so painfully right now, but he wanted you to cum first - needed you to cum first.

“Yeah, so close. Wan’ cum- Ah! Please-”

“Then cum. Fucking cum, wan’ed this so bad.” he’s babbling deliriously. Little sparks of lightning visible even to your glassy eyes, fingers humming with a dangerous little energy that stimulated you so good. “Yeah, yeah yeah yeah fucking cum, wanna hngh-”

And then you are. So sudden and hard that you don’t even realize it at first. Just that you’re seeing stars behind your eyes, blood roaring in your ears. Rocking your hips into Satoru’s like such a slut. 

Oh, if heaven was really then the part of Satoru that can still form coherent thoughts thinks this just might be it. 

Because only the sight of you creaming all around his swollen cock and he’s cumming and cumming so hard that it hurts. Thick, hot ropes of cum that he can’t seem to stop. Doesn’t want to stop, and God he thinks he could cum until you beg and beg and beg it’s too much. Until you’re yelling for-

“Mercy!” you moan, head spinning with how fucking overfilled your pussy was. “Please, Toru-”

Satoru lets out a slight gasp, “Mercy?” Chuckling so cruelly at your dazed nod, “No mercy, my love. None at all.”

And God, it was so fucking hard to look at him too - eyes half-lidded and miles away, flushed and looking like he was anywhere but laid out on a hospital bed just a few minutes ago. In fact, Satoru looked like he was in heaven on Earth as he only milked his painfully hard cock on your snug pussy.

Pretty. Always so fucking pretty. 

And he kept whispering that, over and over in your ear as you both ride out your highs. Oh how he loved you.

Your eyes fly open, and Satoru knew he’d said that out loud. Shit. But, well, with the way you were immediately pulling him to collapse into your arms, he thinks he really doesn’t mind.

“Love you, love you. Love you so much. Always did, always wanted to love you- to fuck you.” You barely even notice him marking down your neck, sharp canines digging into the flesh like he wanted to break something. Hard enough that you distinctly wondered whether he was out for blood. “To ruin you.”

It was oozing out of you, both Satoru’s cum - dribbling down your legs in thick globs, pooling on the overpriced sheets below - and his power. Jolts of electricity running down all the way from your poor, abused cunt to your hazy mind. 

“So do it.” The air was crackling - crackling with intensity and the smell of jujutsu. It was in your veins, in your words as you whisper, “Ruin me. You’re the- ngh- only- one f’me, Toru. Always was.”

The lights go out. All of them - all across Tokyo, in fact. Shining so bright that it was blinding, until they burst. The last thing you see are his eyes - electrified with blue lightning, burning into your brain. 

And then it’s black. 

---

“I’ll be back before ya know it, my love.” he whispers against your forehead, cooing at the way you stir sleepily. “Gotta pest to take care of.”

Taking down that curtain wasn’t the hard part, the hard part was actually fucking regaining his senses enough to do so. 

And now, all cleaned up and fucked to sleep on his bed, you were looking so unbearably delectable that it made some part of Satoru just want to stay behind this curtain. To forget the waiting sorcerers on the battlefield. Saving the world be damned.

Well, no matter, Satoru had time. He was the strongest, right? After all, how could he give you the world if there was no world to give?

“N’ when I’m back, m’gonna kiss ya to death till you go out with me. Till everyone knows you’re unmistakably mine.”

A/N. GET IT - that unmistakable bit from the panel? 

Plagiarism not authorized.

[gojoest]

the one with the role play — gojo satoru

— your husband breaking character during role play after you mention the one thing you shouldn’t have

suggestive, MDNI, established relationship (you’re married), written with f! reader in mind but think i kept it pretty gn, alcohol (nobody gets drunk, just a super quick mention of it as a choice of drink at the bar), strangers at the bar role play (or a failed attempt tbh), based on this talk post of mine, wc: 1.3k

“hey, love”, satoru broke the silence while the two of you were folding the laundry one afternoon. (yes, the strongest sorcerer always helps his wife with chores)

“say, love”, you quickly responded, without looking at him.

“you know, i was thinking — we’ve never tried role play”

“that’s what folding clothes made you think of?”, glancing at him you chuckled, “interesting”, raising an eyebrow teasingly.

“we’ve done pretty much everything but that. you’re not curious?”

now was not the time to tell him that you had done this before, with your ex, and that it was fun. no need to remind him that you had other partners before him and make him lose sleep for days to come, like that one time when he found your diary from high school in the attic and read about all the crushes and boyfriends you had. it took weeks and a lot of coddling on your part (you even had to start a satoru only diary and write his name into little hearts) for him to get over it. so you figured you’d keep this little detail to yourself and take it to the grave. or it would be your husband taken to the grave due to lethal jealousy steaming from the fact that another man had laid his hands on you in the past.

“s-sure”, you stuttered, thinking back to that excruciating memory, then cleared your throat before continuing — “yea, we can do that, why not”

“good then”, he tossed the shirt in his hands aside and stepped closer to you. circling his arms around your waist from behind — one hand eventually resting over your chest while the other stopping at your navel and gently rubbing it — he possessively pressed you against his chest and hummed contently.

“someone’s very excited about this, huh?”, you placed your hand over his and tilted your head back to peek at him.

“oh? can you tell?”, he grinned, playfully pushing his hips against you.

“that giant thing in your pants poking me from behind is giving you away, i’m afraid”

“it’s your fault though”, his head craned down so his lips could reach your forehead and trail soft kisses down to the tip of your nose.

standing on your tip toes you raised your hands to cup his cheeks and pecked him on the lips. “of course, it’s my fault that you’re getting all hot and bothered in the middle of the day like some pervert”

“i always get hot and bothered thinking about you”, he pecked you back, then slowly turned you around (concerned that you might hurt your neck if you kept that position up).

“any ideas?”, you asked.

“8pm, the bar around the corner”

“we’re to enact the classic strangers meeting at the bar, huh? okay. anything else?”

“nope, let’s improvise”

[8:13pm, at the bar]

sitting alone on the stool at the bar counter, you kept playing with your now half empty martini glass, drawing circles with it on the surface. you felt a bit weird sitting here pretending to be single and ready to mingle. but oh well.

he was late. you took another sip of your drink and grabbed your phone to check the time again.

“next one’s on me”, a painfully familiar voice approached you from behind. “if you would allow me, that is”

he was late on purpose, you figured. waiting for you to almost finish your drink so he could easily start a conversation by using such a lame but still quite effective line.

“i don’t normally accept drinks from strangers”, you gazed at him, “but an exception every now and then wouldn’t hurt, i assume”

a puckish smile curved on his lips. “may i?”, taking his sunglasses off, he asked for your permission to sit next to you.

“sure”

you were quite impressed at how seriously he was actually taking this, not breaking character even for a second so far. he had made up a brand new persona of himself, introducing himself as “sato kouya” — the ceo of a leading pharmaceutical company, temporarily living in tokyo for the purpose of a big business project.

“enough about me though”, eyes focused on you, he leaned his elbow on the bar counter and placed his chin on his palm. “tell me about yourself — what’s a beauty like you doing alone?”

you giggled (he was just so cute right now). “you’re lucky that i am alone — if we had met a week earlier, i would’ve still been married”

his expression froze at your words. the smile from a few seconds ago was now bleeding into a confused, almost creepy, look on his face — his lips still stretched into a grin while his eyes told a different story.

“hmmm… how so?”, he spoke in a monotone, his grin slowly fading away.

it would be a lie to say his weird reaction didn’t concern you at all but you decided to brush it off, and continued. “you see, i just got officially divorced. my ex husband and i tried out best to keep the marriage going for as long as we could but we were simply not meant to be”, you sighed. “this was the best for both of us”

“no way”, satoru whined. “no fucking way”

“umm… excuse me?”, you tilted your head in confusion.

“i don’t like this”, his face giving you a dejected grimace — brows knitted, lips pursed into a pout and eyes filled with a mix of panic and sorrow taking over the blue in them and turning it into a darker shade. “divorced? not meant to be? don’t even joke about this”, he almost cried out. the thought alone rubbed him the wrong way, tugged at his heartstrings so intensely that it forced him out of character right then and there, putting an end to your little role play escapade (rip sato kouya, you will be missed).

“satoru”, you caressed his hand, “baby. love of my life. this is just an act, please get it together”

“oh”, he gasped in utter shock after his focus fell on your hand and he noticed you were not wearing your ring. “you even took your ring off? why would you do that?”

great, this was getting worse now.

“because of the role play”, you spoke each word slowly, stressing on the last two very carefully.

“but i’m still wearing mine”, he protested, pointing at his ring, “see? you could’ve still acted fine with your ring on and without bringing up divorce and not meant to be’s”, he cried again, a hangdog look splattered on his face.

“i didn’t want to play the cheating wife, that’s why i took it o—“, you were cut off by another dramatic reaction.

“cheating? CHEATING? you considered this scenario?”, his voice was hitting desperate notes at this point. you couldn’t believe he had lost all reason over a play pretend.

you pinched the bridge of your nose before you spoke, “okay, that’s enough. you’re being ridiculous right now. i’m going home”

he followed after you like a kicked puppy, whining all the way home. but you had to admit — part of you really loved the fact that he went completely out of his mind over something so silly, that he didn’t know what to do with himself just thinking about you possibly leaving him even in a made-up scenario, that you held so much power over him…

extra:

[later that night, in bed]

done reading for the night and ready to sleep, you placed your book on the nightstand and looked over at your husband sitting with his arms crossed next to you in bed.

“still not over it?”, you nestled your head on his chest.

“no. hurts like hell just thinking about it”, he mumbled.

“come on, stop pouting”, you pinched his cheek, “you can’t go to sleep with a grumpy face”

“yea?”, he glanced down at you, “sit on it then — it’s the only way to wipe that pout off of it”

[princessbrunette]

john b made puppy!reader cum a whole bunch of times. no, not to overstimulate her — he’d thought about it, many times with his cock in his hand, but it was early days. today, he just had to be certain that she was slicked up enough to even get him inside that snug cunt.

he drags the tip through your puffy folds, watching each and every way your body jerks and twitches — audibly soaked, your arousal clicking and oozing with each grind of his hips. you were still sensitive, naturally — the taste of you still on his tongue, so he was being patient. even when he watched your hole clench around nothing and you placed a smaller hand on his wrist.

“please, i still want it daddy.” you groan, tearful and demure.

“look, i want you to know that we don’t have to do anything today if you don’t —”

“i still want it, daddy.” you suck in a breath so sharp you nearly choke on it and he raises his eyebrows, nodding in yielding.

“okay, okay. take it easy sweetheart. i’ll give you what you want.”

he watches the way his fat tip presses against your puffy pussy lips, spreading them obscenely from just the slightest pressure. john b always knew he was big, bigger than average atleast. curious eyes had decided that for himself upon taking shy glances around all-male changing rooms and locker room conversations about dick size that had friends saying ‘you’re a fucking liar, bro.’ the girls in his past had a little more experience than you, and welcomed the stretch — but looking at you below him, he wondered if this could potentially scare you off. he was about to do something he never thought he’d do, chicken out.

“bubba…” he cradles you, sliding hands under your back to hold you close and press kisses to your hot skin. john b’s voice was filled with sympathy, and if you weren’t so hazy in the head, desperate for his dick — you might’ve picked up on what he was about to say. “i don’t think it’s gonna fit, puppy.” he coo’s.

“no!” you whine petulantly. it wasn’t like you to be spoiled or demanding — but you had been preparing all week to take your boyfriend and you’d be damned if you didn’t get to atleast try to feel him inside you. “no, john b!” crestfallen, you let the hot tears race down your cheeks and his brows crease, feeling awful about it.

“i don’t want to hurt you, okay? i just —”

“make it fit, please— please make it fit john b, need it so bad!” you babble out a beg, snot pooling beneath your nose and all. he’d seen desperation, and he’d seen you cry — but never had he seen you cry in desperation for his cock. it twitches involuntarily against you, the heavy pink tip thumping your clit making you jerk, shuddering.

“heyheyheyhey— okay, okay. sweetheart, look at me. look at daddy. riiiight here.” he presses a wide hand to your chest to still you, the warmth of his palm proving to serve as some comfort as you suck in a shaky breath, bottom lip still wobbling. “thaaats my girl. breathe, okay?” he feels the thudding of your heart slow ever so slightly against his palm as you suck in slow trembling breaths. “i’m… i’m gonna try okay? but you… you need to breathe. gonna give me a heart attack, pup — jesus.” he sighs, lining himself up once more.

he decides one fluid motion might be better, so once he starts pushing in he doesn’t stop. slowly, but surely he feels your walls contract and stretch around his thickness — your jaw tense in determination as you put every muscle possible into lax, allowing john b to do what needs to be done.

“that okay? talk to me puppy how does it feel?”

“feels full.” you say through a strained tongue. you didn’t know you’d stopped breathing.

“what’d i say, hm? breathe.”

you suck in a long hard breath at this permission, and as you do so john b takes the opportunity to bottom out completely, dropping his forehead to your shoulder to let out a gravelly groan as you squeak. you feel as though you can’t even clench. there’s no space. he feels your glossy walls fluttering and trying anyway.

“happy, pup? that feel nice?”

he lifts his head, warm brown eyes searching your watery iris. there’s a softness to you suddenly, like you’d completely let go and you nod— a clammy hand pushing his wavy brown hair from his face.

“i wanna stay like this forever.”

[day-dreamed]

you’ve been acting strange. spencer is determined to find out why.

cw reader is sad, hurt/comfort, spencer is a sweetheart

Spencer first notices it when you’re all in the round table room one morning, briefing for the day’s case. You contribute to the conversation, respond when you’re spoken to, but there’s still this faraway look to your eyes, like you’re not truly present.

The next time is on the jet. You’re sitting next to him, like always. He asks you a question but you don’t answer him. In fact, he has to repeat it multiple times before you say anything back, and even then it’s like you aren’t really focused on what he’s saying.

He doesn’t decide to do anything about it until it affects your decision making out on the field. Because of your delayed reaction, you nearly get shot by the unsub.

That night, when you’re at the hotel and have gone to your respective rooms, Spencer fidgets in bed for about an hour before he finally gets up and goes to your room. He knocks on the door before he loses his courage to do so.

When the door swings open, you stand there in front of him, eyes squinting against the bright light of the hallway.

“Spence?” you mumble.

“Hi. I just wanted to see if you were okay,” he says, rocking on the balls of his feet.

Your eyes narrow as you cross your arms over your chest. “I’m fine. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“You’ve been acting off,” Spencer blurts out before he can stop himself. “Ever since yesterday morning. I just—I’ve been worried about you.”

“What do you mean, off?” you ask, instantly on the defensive.

“Well, you haven’t been really present. There always seems to be this glaze over your eyes, like you’re not really… here. And yesterday, on the jet, I had to repeat a question six times before you actually answered me.”

He can hear the hitch in your breath. “Spence, I—”

“And today. I mean—You almost got shot, for crying out loud! All because you were too lost in your head and didn’t react in time. I… I almost lost you,” he finishes quietly.

“I’m okay,” you say softly.

“Are you? You know you can talk to me about anything, right?” Spencer asks, hesitantly reaching a hand out to rest on your shoulder, giving it a small squeeze.

You nod, tears pooling your eyes. “I know,” you whisper.

“Please tell me what’s wrong.”

“I—I don’t really know, honestly,” you say, letting out a teary laugh. “I’ve just… I’ve been feeling sad, I guess. And it’s stupid, because it’s not even about anything in particular, but it’s like there’s this crushing weight on my chest, and it—”

Spencer doesn’t let you finish. He wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you to him, giving you a light squeeze.

“I’m here for you. No matter what, okay? Please remember that.”

You freeze for only a moment before you let yourself melt into him, arms slinging around his shoulders as you bury your face into his neck, a small sob escaping you.

“Thanks, Spence,” you mumble into his shirt, voice cracking.

“Always.”

[loveliestdagger]

ask (bucky barnes x f!reader)

read it on ao3

summary: when, after a mission, the reader needs Bucky's help tending to her wounds.

word count: 1227

warnings: blood and injury, stab wound

a/n: feedback is always appreciated, especially since i'm thinking about writing another chapter. anyways...enjoy!!!

I hold onto the doorframe, putting as little weight on my leg as possible. the open wound stings, deepening into consistent pain jolting up the thigh and reverbing in my brain. I feel the blood dripping down my freshly washed body.

The nightgown is purposefully too short, showing the extent and severity of the cut. It starts mid thigh trailing down almost to the knee. It's deep too. Bucky sits on the edge of the bed, boots undone. His hair clings to his forehead with the same sweat that makes his bare chest glisten just as hard as his metal arm. If I didn't feel like dying I'd drool.

He takes note of my presence as soon as I open the bathroom door, straightening up. I can feel his eyes on me, burning in the raw flesh of my thigh. I register a millisecond of surprise and then his eyes raise to meet mine.

I don’t move. I should. I swallow in dry, returning his stare. My vision blurs and the hand that isn’t supporting me tremors uncontrollably – the only visible sign of my distress. He gets up, walking close enough that I can distinguish his eyes through the haziness. 

Sam had once joked every time I got injured I acted like a wounded animal. Unwilling to accept help, let alone ask for it. Running away to lick my wounds and coming back when everything is fine. 

Bucky stands in front of me, his lips pressed into a line. He analises me, knowing me too well already. "You need me to stitch it up." 

It’s not a question or a statement. It's the iteration of what I need to say but can’t. All I can muster is to not avoid his gaze, as my face burns and my knees falter.

Still, my eyes avoid his when I speak.

"I wouldn't ask if I-"

"You haven't." 

I let out a heavy breath, frustration intensifying the hot flashes surging through me as I retreat back into the bathroom. I'm going to bleed to death because I can’t bring myself to ask for help. Real mature. But his hand grasps mine, our fingers bruising almost intertwining before he settles his grip firmly on my wrist. When I decide to look back at him his gaze has softened.

"Ask." It’s a quiet, breathy sound. I’m tired and hurt and he's leaning into me, his warmth far more comforting than — could me. And I find myself holding onto his heart, the steady beating underneath my fingers. He draws circles on the inside of my wrist. The other hand rises to cup my cheek and I lean into it, shuddering breaths as his skin makes contact with mine. "Talk to me."

I crumble like a statue made to wait too long. 

"It hurts." I croak through the lump in my throat. It’s not what he wants me to say but it’s the truth. It’s the most sincere I’ve been in a while.

"I know baby." He says softly in my ear while his fingers brush the ends of my hair.

"I need help." I mutter.

"Then let’s get you some help." He guides me back inside the bathroom, his hand resting on the small of my back. The tactical gear is in a pile on the corner, along with blood soaked undergarments. Even the tiles underneath have a reddish hue to them, messily wiped in a pained haze. 

He motions for me to sit on the edge of the bathtub, leaving the room only when he’s sure I won't fall over. The lights are too bright and I'm suddenly very cold. When he comes back, with a medical kit that had to have taken up half of his bag, I’m gripping the edges of the tub.

He kneels in front of me, laying out his supplies. I watch him work, slowly, methodically and when he gazes back at me he looks unsure. His thumb trails the extent of the wound, gliding in the blood that keeps on pouring out and he watches me. His eyes roam my face in search of something. Then he looks at my thigh again, eyebrows knitted together as I hold my breath. He's looking for pain. And I'm sure I look pained. The edges of the wound are jagged and I can feel where the knife nicked the bone. It’s a dull ache, deep inside the leg. Incomparable with the searing pain of the cut itself which I feel burning at the edges like it's trying to knit itself back together.

"Just do it." I exhale. It’s when I notice I'm panting, my body so heavy I have to make a conscious effort to sit upright.

"I'll make it quick, I promise." His eyes crease with a sympathetic smile. His hand sliding to massage my calf. I manage a nod, my eyes threatening to close. 

I can’t resist the urge to lean over him, a content sigh escaping my lips as my forehead meets his bare shoulder and rests there. I register the sharp sting of disinfectant. Then I feel the pressure of his fingers on the edges of the cut, clenching my teeth as he pinches the skin together and whimpering when he draws the needle through it. And he does it again. And again.

"Are you still with me?" he calls out after a while. I somewhat nod, not feeling the strength to lift my head. "We’re almost done. Just a little bit longer, okay?"

"I feel awful." I confess, just as he drags a wet towel softly across the stitches. 

"You lost a lot of blood. I’m actually surprised you’re holding out so well."

"What can I say? I’m a natural." 

"I'd prefer it if you weren’t a natural at getting stabbed." I feel scolded, as he finishes wrapping my leg, the pressure bringing immediate relief. 

He grabs my shoulders, straightening me up. He brushes damp hair out of my face, like it’s a curtain separating him from gazing at the view, looking so intently into my eyes I think he might actually get a glimpse into my soul. 

"You did good." And there’s his eyes, and his mouth. And I'm sure I will say something but I can't hear myself. I can’t think. And his eyes. His eyes, shiny and caring, full of such honesty and tenderness I don’t know if my knees are weak for him or because of blood loss. And I don’t care because he carries me and lays me on the bed. He covers me and his fingers stroke my cheek as he asks if I’m okay.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, leaning in my direction I feverishly think he might kiss me. I wonder if he wants to. I’m sure I would like it, he seems like a good kisser. With his pretty pink lips and his soft skin.

"I have to check in with Nat." He says hesitantly, his hand still on my face. "I'll check on you when I get back."

" I should go too" I squirm, trying to free myself from the bedsheets. Having a drink at some dirty bar with Natasha sounds nice for once. And I have a lot to debrief

He pushes me back down. "You’ve done enough for today."

I try again and I’m met with the same fate. 

"Sleep."

[astraystayyh]

chan x reader. hurt and lots of comfort. description of an anxiety attack and its aftermath (based on my own experiences).

please consider donating for gaza through my kofi. we have exceeded 1k dollars and our goal is 1500! a little goes a long way, you can donate as much as you can! thank you

If you remain still long enough, breathe as quietly as you can muster, would the world forget you exist and pass your anxiety along to somebody else?

A selfish question, perhaps, but one that you can’t help but ask as you sit on your freezing bathroom floor, knees tightly hugged to your chest.

You don’t know how long it’s been since you’ve sat in this position. Time suddenly seemed elusive to you, as if a concept too hard for your frantic heart to grasp. All you knew was the ache of your limbs and the feeling that doom was just around the corner.

It was one of those days where you woke up feeling anxious. As if your brain had made up its mind about you in your sleep, deciding to hold you hostage to your anxiety. The bed was cold, your boyfriend Chan long gone to his studio, his lingering cologne the only indication he was ever there. So, you tried to distract yourself throughout the day— going on a walk, listening to music, cleaning your house, but it didn't help. Nothing seemed to help you.

So here you were, hours later, sat on your bathroom floor, trying to calm yourself down, all alone. But you could tell that it wasn't working, that you were on a losing race against your own body. Soon, you wouldn't be able to control your anxiety, soon it would turn into a full blown attack.

You wanted to call Chan, you truly did, but he was busy, and you refused to be a burden. Especially since he told you through texts that he'd be home late, so that definitely meant that he was making a new track in his studio.

So, you settled on rocking yourself back and forth, your hands slowly moving up to your shoulders, patting yourself down. This is what you used to do before knowing Chan. When you didn't have anyone around you who understood. You’d trick your bruised mind into believing you were hugged, the warmth of your own touch easing your anxiety a little.

But tonight it had the opposite effect. Tonight, you broke down in sobs, your breathing more irregular than ever. You curled into a ball on the floor, your hand moving to your chest in a futile attempt to slow down your heart. You could no longer breathe, the air in your lungs morphing into unkind fingers, choking you from within. White dots started dancing in front of your eyes, as your entire being shook like a lone leaf, left to fend for itself before the unyielding winds.

It suddenly got too much— the sobs, the pain, the ache. You couldn't bare it anymore. So with trembling hands, you unlocked your phone, calling the only person who would be able to calm you down. Chan. You put the phone on speaker, before tossing it on the ground next to you. You couldn't even muster the energy to hold it to your ear.

“Hi my love, I'm a bit busy right now can I call you later?” Chan's rushed words ring through the bathroom, your anxiety intensifying before the possible antidote. “Honey?” he asks again when he doesn’t hear your reply.

“Chan—“ you sob, the only word your weighted tongue allows you to speak of.

“I’m here, I'm here baby. I'm coming right now,” his panicked voice rings through your ears, following the frantic rush of your boiling blood. The sound of shuffling indicates that he’s getting up and leaving the studio, the confused ‘what’s going on?’ Han shouts confirms it.

The only reply you give him is your sobs, and his heart constricts, twists and turns at the sound of your cries. “Hey, hey, sweetheart. It’s okay, you’re okay. Breathe for me, okay? Take a deep breath with me, please—” his voice breaks, “please baby.”

You try, with all your will, to force a steady breath to rise from your stomach to the tip of your tongue. It escapes faintly, but Chan catches it. “You’re doing well, baby. Fuck—” he turns on his car’s engine. “Um… Minho bit my ass today.”

His words catch you off guard, the gears in your mind stopping for a split second. You remember a faint conversation under your covers, months ago, when you told him that distractions help you when you’re anxious. Force you to redirect your thinking somewhere else.

He remembered.

“Was it tasty?” you breathe out, and he chuckles, a sweet sound intermingled with a sigh of relief. “I don’t know, I need to ask him baby.”

You nod though he can’t see you, willing yourself to breathe again. In, out, in, out, Chan’s own breathing guiding you. “Should I bite him in return?” he asks. Tears pool in your eyes once again. “I’m close, so close,” he reassures.

“Okay.”

“To the biting?”

“Mm,” you manage to hum, as you hear the door of your apartment open, Chan's hurried steps echoing in your home. You knew he was looking for you but you couldn't call out to him. After painfully long seconds, stretching out as if to torture you even more, he finally opens the bathroom floor.

He finally finds you.

“It's okay, I'm here. I'm here,” he wastes no time before scooping you into his arms and hugging you. He knows that the pressure eases your anxiety so he tightens his hold without you having to say so, pulling you as close as two pages of the same book.

With you on his lap, he starts rocking back and forth, his words coming out a jumble mess. He can’t settle on what to say to you, switching between stupid jokes his friends told him, and words of reassurance he repeats like a promise.

His words break, his tongue faltering each time your sob gets louder, but he speaks. He speaks and speaks for twenty minutes, all to distract you, all to keep you grounded, and safe.

After a long while, the storm finally passes, leaving behind an excruciating exhaustion. You turn into a puddle in his hold, softening like malleable clay. He holds you as gently as a porcelain vase.

His warm palms settle atop your cheeks, his eyes gazing into yours for the first time since he got here. A sheen glaze taints them, one you know is mirrored in your own. His thumbs gently swipe away your remaining tears, grazing your face with a tenderness that makes your being ache. Your lips press a faint kiss onto his palm, his find their way to your forehead, and you feel it all, through his kiss. His fear, his relief, his love, soft and gentle, for you.

“Thank you,” you whisper, voice slightly hoarse as you kiss his forehead back.

“I’ve got you my love. Always,” he smiles at you softly, his dimples appearing like the sun after a cold day.

“Did Minho really bite you?” you giggle faintly, and he scratches his ear sheepishly. “No, but I don’t put it past him to do it.”

“Is that something you’re into?” You cock a teasing eyebrow at him, and he shakes his head, his tongue pressed against the inside of his cheek. “Only if it’s you,” he says as he wraps his arm around your waist, picking you up swiftly.

“I’ll consider,” you yawn, wrapping your arms around his neck, your face finding a refuge in the crook of his neck.

“Why thank you,” he smiles as he leads you to your bedroom, settling you gently atop the bed. He quickly climbs in with you, bringing you so close to him, his warmth ends up spreading through your entire being, filling up every nook and cranny of your soul.

“I think as long as you’re near, I’ll always be okay,” you say, as your eyes close slowly, you miss the tender smile that blooms in his face at your words.

“Good thing I exist to be near you, then.”

please consider donating for gaza through my kofi. we have exceeded 1k dollars and our goal is 1500! a little goes a long way, you can donate as much as you can! thank you

[not-neverland06]

How About a Nuke?

Part VIII / Part IX

(Completed) Series Masterlist

Cooper Howard x fem!reader, The ghoul x fem!reader A/N: PLEASE READ, we have reached the end of their journey and I am so sad/happy/excited about it. I don’t even know how to feel honestly. I just want to thank everyone who has commented, messaged or reblogged this story. Your kind words and funny little depressed memes have been really uplifting for me. I was actually considering just giving up on this blog when I posted the first chapter. I haven’t had much inspiration lately or interaction I feel like, and you all have helped reignite that spark within me. Summary: There’s something keeping you tied to Cooper Howard, an invisible string wrapped around you both. You’ve fought against it as long as you could but he’s not gonna let you fight for much longer.

It’s been a month and the bounty on her head gets bigger everyday. Normally the compound hires privately, they don’t like going through the agencies. He figures with Sylvie dead they’re struggling to find a new leader and they’re falling apart. Or they’re just desperate for her head on a stick. 

He sees her face everywhere, crudely drawn images of her varying in their accuracy. In some she has a hat like his on, in others her nose is the wrong shape, or her eyes are all wrong. No one seems to have a good grasp on who she is. Out of curiosity and a strange need to know she’s still alive, he’s asked around. 

There are different rumors as to where she’s hiding out. Some think she’s taken to hiding out in the caves near Filly. Anyone with half a brain knows that the area’s overrun by irradiated bears and other mutated freaks. 

There are those that say they’ve seen her wandering through the sands. Following that lead had led him nowhere. He doesn’t know where she is and it’s driving him insane. She’s like a constant itch in the back of his mind that he just can’t scratch. Days and nights are spent thinking about her and he hates it. 

He’s not sure what he’d do when he does find her. Whether he’d shoot her to repay the favor or just tie her up to keep her from leaving again. He’s conflicted on how he feels about her. He’s bothered that he feels anything towards her at all. And he knows that when she shot him, she was shooting to kill. 

She had no way of knowing that he would heal from that bullet. She’d watched him bleed out on the ground and left him for dead. He was impressed, as much as he wanted to be mad, he was almost proud in a way. 

Throughout their tumultuous lives and times together she’d always had to be guided by him. He’d shown her the ways of whatever world they were living in. She’d relied on him and he enjoyed it. The time had to come when eventually she wouldn’t need him anymore. 

It’s outside of Filly that he finds the most accurate poster of her so far. She looks like she did in their first movie together. A proper outlaw, wanted all across the Wastelands for her crimes against a bunch of sick fucks. If he could kill Sylvie again, he would. He’d kill all of them. 

Not that he’s condemning them because of what the compound’s doing. He’s dabbled in organ trade before, eaten people, he’s done a lot of fucked up shit. But he draws the line at trying to hurt her. He’s the only one who should be allowed to fuck with her.

He takes the poster down and whistles softly at the price under her name. It’s enough to keep him happy for a longtime. If he never wanted to take on another bounty he wouldn’t have to. Course, he was never in this for the money. A man’s gotta have something to entertain himself with at the end of the world. 

He wonders if she’s even still alive. Maybe a Deathclaw got her a day after she left him behind. He could have walked past her corpse and never even known it. He folds the poster up and slips it in his bag. He doesn’t know why he bothers keeping it. Possibly because it’s the closest thing to her that he’s got, but he doesn’t feel like lingering on that thought for long. 

He tugs his hat lower on his head and heads through the tunnel leading to Filly. He’s caused a lot of issues here over the years. Usually he kills most of the people who could identify him as an instigator, but he doesn’t feel like pushing his luck today. He needs more supplies and he knows Ma June won’t sell to him if he causes a fight beforehand. 

It’s louder than normal today, more people rushing around. They’re all congregating around something in the center of the marketplace. He turns to the left, heading up the stairs to try and get a better look at what’s got everyone so excited. 

“They found her!” A boy shouts, fidgeting in his spot next to him. He glances at him from under his hat and the boy pales before scurrying away from him. His lips turn up in a cruel grin and he finally gets a good look at what’s happening. 

She’s kneeling in the middle of the marketplace, two Knights on either side of her. He’s more surprised by the fact that she actually has picked up a hat in her time away from him. 

She seems to be playing into the outlaw routine more than he thought she would. 

You’re embarrassed, honestly, that you let these two idiots capture you. Them and their useless little squires. 

You’ve found odd jobs through the Brotherhood when they need assistance looking for relics of the old world. Though, you’re really not sure how much use a toaster oven can be to them, but they pay good money for it. 

Once your bounty was posted and they figured out who you were, though, that stopped being useful. You can’t even hunt bounties because the agencies would just grab you and turn you over to the compound.

They clearly didn’t give a shit about women, you don’t get why they’re making this whole Sylvie situation such a big deal. 

You had to bribe Ma June by buying some of her junk, but eventually she’d helped you find some work in Filly. The people here are stupid enough that they don’t recognize you when they see you. Most of them are high or drunk so the only thing you have to worry about is wandering hands and not stepping in the middle of their brawls. 

From the patrons of the bar you hear stories about yourself. How you slaughtered the entire compound, even the children, which is so far from the truth you can’t help but scoff. Or how you apparently slept with a ghoul and you're carrying his mutant baby. 

You don’t even know where they got that one from. 

They also seem to think you wander through the sands, shooting anyone who gets in your way. It’s a comfort that no one seems to have caught onto you yet. But it’s also disheartening to know that all that’s left of civilization is a bunch of psychopathic idiots. 

What happened to natural selection?

You know your stint in Filly is up when two Knights walk in, their squires struggling to carry their bags behind them. You pull your hat further over your head and duck behind the bar. You try to keep your back to them and let the old man, Marley, who runs the bar deal with them. 

His shaky voice is cautious as he greets them, “What are Knights doing so far out here?”

One of their distorted voices rings out through the, now quiet, bar. “We got bored. Wanted to shoot some shit.”

You roll your eyes and focus on cleaning the cup in front of you. You spit into it, not enough water to properly clean it, and scrub at it with a stained towel. Marley hums, clearly displeased with the answer. You can hear his tottering steps approaching you and wince, praying he’s not going to do what you think he is. 

He tugs on your shirt with a shaky hand and you slump forward in defeat. “Deal with these jackasses,” he mutters, taking drinks over to a different table. 

You pour the only alcohol the bar has into two cups and keep your head down as you approach. “Heard that a woman took over for Knight Damien.”

One of them scoffs and shakes his armored head, “What the fuck is this world coming to?” You don’t know how they’re planning on drinking their liquor with the helmets on but you’re not going to ask stupid questions. You drop the cups in front of them, but your hand slips and one of them tips over into a Knight’s lap. 

“I’ve got it, sire.” Their squire lunges forward and begins vigorously scrubbing their armor. Your face curls up in distaste and you’re about to walk away when a metal hand grips your wrist. 

“Holy shit, it’s her!” Oh, you’re so screwed. 

They’ve got a fucking leash on you, it’s humiliating. The scarred and dirt-covered faces of the citizens of Filly surround you. They’re all leering, shouting at you and begging the Knight’s to share in the bounty. But the Knight’s aren’t listening, they’re just congratulating each other. 

“What do you think they’ll give us?”

One of them shoves their squire and he goes toppling into his large bag, feet flailing in the air. “Hopefully better fucking squires. I’m getting sick of this one’s stupid face.” 

The squire kneels down and shouts in a shaking voice, “I’m sorry if I’ve disappointed you, sire!” God, you really hate these people. You wished they would just shoot you. Having to sit here and listen to them talk was making your brain go numb. 

The Knight’s distorted laugh rings out through his helmet. The other one glances over at you, “What do you think she did? I’ve never seen the compound this pissed off.”

“I dunno. Hey!” You know he’s talking to you, that they want an answer, you really don’t care to give them one. “What’d you do?” They stare at you for a moment and then he sighs when you don’t respond. He shoves his squire towards you and the kid goes stumbling over his feet. “Make her talk.”

He nods rapidly, head bobbing up and down. “Of course, sire.” Your hands twitch to your side and you give him a wicked grin as he approaches. 

He’s debating going down there and trying to help her when the first shot goes off. He doesn’t even see it happen, he just watches as one of the squires drops to the ground. 

Those who don’t want to get caught in the crossfire are quick to move away from the area, hiding in their shops or shoving past him to get through the tunnel. He heads down the stairs, taking his time and trying to figure out where the shot came from. 

The second squire moves towards her and his head flies back, a hole between his eyes and his brains splattering across the ground. One Knight shoves the other one and points at their dead squire’s, “Did you not take her fucking gun?”

He’s been in those suits. He remembers how it felt, the power you get from being in them. How they make you feel like a big man. He also remembers how fucking slow they could be. She’s on her feet and running for cover before they can even start to grab her. 

She dives behind a stall and tugs a knife out of her boot, sawing at the ropes around her wrists. He can’t reach her before the fighting starts. Someone in the remaining crowd shouts, “Grab her! Get the bounty!” And all hell breaks loose. 

Someone runs at him and he shoots them before they can grab him. Shots start going off, the Knight’s mowing down anyone who tries to swoop in on their bounty. Everyone else is shooting blindly, just trying to get rid of the competition so they can claim her bounty as their own. 

He ducks under the hail fire and slides next to her as she’s reloading her gun. She glances over at him and frowns, “Didn’t I kill you?”

He hears a shout and watches as some half-feral woman charges at them. She shoots her dead and turns back to him. He gives her a wry smile, “You want to do this now, sweetheart?”

She peers over her cover and surveys the chaos going on around them. She sighs and glances back at him, “Why aren’t you dead?” 

He tugs one of his specially made bullets out of his bag and loads it into his gun. He lifts himself to his knees and aims at the weak spot on the Knight’s chest plate. They both watch as blood explodes out of the neck of the power armor, the Knight’s friend cussing as he watches him die. 

“Next time,” she turns to look at him, “aim for the head,” he instructs. She glares at him before making her way to Ma June’s shop. He follows, not willing to let her out of his sight again, and she ducks behind the barrels of supplies in front of the shop. 

“Clearly,” she winces as the Knight’s gun starts firing off again, “I’m not making it out of here on my own.” They dive to the side as bullets rip through the barrels they’re leaning against. They’re not gonna have cover for much longer.

He grins at her, “Sounds like you’re asking me for a favor, darling.”

The sounds of screams and bodies dropping is nearly deafening. A few feet away a bullet catches a man in the throat and he drops to the ground. They watch as he chokes on his blood and tries to claw his way to safety. Steps rapidly approach them and she turns to shoot a different man, his body dropping an inch away from them. 

He turns back to her and his lips turn down, “After you tried to kill me? You want my help,” he laughs at her and she glares. 

Before she can speak a voice rings out above them, “I got her!” He shoots at the woman on the upper level above them, half of her leg gets blown off and she tumbles over the railing, narrowly missing the pair. 

He turns back to her, “You’re asking a lot, darling.”

“You’ve fucking shot me, twice. I’m not asking you for anything.” Her lips turn down in a sneer and she looks at him like the very sight of him disgusts her. “I don't need your help. I don't need you.” She glances back over her shoulder, surveying the gore and the bullets flying around them. She checks her gun and he sees just how little ammo she has left. “I’ll handle this myself.” She snaps the chamber of her gun closed and moves to get up. He grabs her wrist and yanks her back down, ignoring the angry expression on her face. 

“Look, you might not want my help, but you need it, sweetheart. Just stay here.” 

You watch as Cooper runs off, his guns firing before he’s even fully standing. You only wait a second before you’re running into Ma June’s and out her back door. She shouts at you as you barrel through her shop, knocking over her displays and shelves, but you can’t waste any time getting the hell out of dodge. 

You’re surprised Cooper was stupid enough to think you would actually wait for him. The Knight’s had called for an air evac out of Filly and if you stay there any longer you’ll be back in the compound before you can blink. 

You’ve spent a month evading them, you’re not about to let yourself get caught because of Cooper. 

You can’t believe he’s not dead. It’s not like you’ve been losing sleep over killing him, but it’s been hard to cope with the fact that you killed the man that was once the love of your life. Seeing him again, though, you wished you had shot him in his smug face. 

You’d forgotten, in the time apart, just how condescending he could be. He seemed to think you needed him to survive. You didn’t. 

At best, he provided the comfort of company. Poorly. 

Despite how much he undervalued you, you were perfectly capable of taking care of yourself. You didn’t need him to save you. You would have figured your way out of there on your own, eventually. You’ve handled yourself a month in the Wastelands without him. You learned how to carve an existence for yourself out here and you did it without help. 

You race into the woods beyond Filly, putting as much distance between you and the sounds of fighting as quickly as you can. The trees around you begin to shake, the ground vibrating and a swirl of dirt and leaves rises into the air and whips you in the face. 

You look up and begin pushing yourself faster. One of the Brotherhood’s Vertibird’s is circling Filly. “This is not a hostile landing! Please remain calm!” You blame your distraction on the announcement. 

You would have heard him coming up behind you if you hadn’t been listening to whatever the Brotherhood was saying. Rope loops around your arms and you’re yanked backwards. Your head thumps painfully hard against the forest floor, rocks scraping you as you’re dragged across the ground. 

Cooper’s face appears over yours, a cruel smile on his lips. “Now, this seems awfully familiar.” He walks around you, boots straddling your waist and grabs you by the front of your shirt, yanking you back to your feet. “I thought I told you to stay put, sweetheart.”

You frown at him, shoving your leg up between his. He groans, doubling over while you shimmy out of the loose rope. “Honestly, after all the shit that’s happened you think I’m gonna listen to anything you say?” You step back from him, brushing the dirt off your clothes as best you can. 

You sigh in frustration when you realize that when the Knight’s had grabbed you, you’d lost your supplies. Cooper looks up at you and scoffs, “Missing something?” You eye his bag on the ground and start to go for it. He pulls the hammer of his gun back and you glance towards him. You’d forgotten what a quick draw he could be.

He’s fully recovered now, eyes narrowed in on you and gun pointed right at your chest. “See, a bullet to the chest might not kill me, but I reckon it’ll do a hell of a lot of damage to you. Why don’t you back up for me, sweetheart?”

You let go of his bag and slowly back away from him. He keeps his gun trained on you and stoops down, throwing his bag back over his shoulder. Your eyes dart to the hat on his head and your lips curl up when you spot the hole you’d put in it. 

Two hundred years and he’s kept that hat nearly pristine, you take no small amount of pride in being the one to ruin it. 

“The Brotherhood will be swarming these woods in a few minutes. They’re not gonna be too happy about one of their Knight’s being dead. Come with me, I can help you out.”

You scoff, “Like I’ll ever trust you again. You’ve shot me, sold me, and left me for dead, Cooper.”

He huffs, eyes narrowing and lips curled in a sardonic grin. You can tell he’s getting pissed off. “The choice is yours,” he tucks his gun back in his holster and turns on his heels. You watch in surprise as he stalks away from you. You had fully expected him to put up more of a fight, it almost hurts that he left so easily again. 

Then you hear the sounds of orders being shouted behind you. Metal creaking and stomping through the underbrush and you realize he hadn’t left but forced you between a rock and a hard place. You could follow him or let yourself get captured by the Brotherhood. 

“Fuck,” you mutter under your breath. You risk a glance over your shoulder and spot a rapidly approaching party of squires. You run in the direction Cooper went and find him leaning casually against a tree, a satisfied look on his face when he spots you. “Don’t say a word,” you warn, shoving past him. 

He glances at her from across the fire and finds himself feeling almost at ease for the first time in a month. It’s been a while since he’s looked up to actually find her staring back at him. She might look like she wants to kill him, but she’s here. 

“You have to admit, we make a pretty good team, darling.”

She gives him an unimpressed look, “Yeah, Cooper, we’re so great at murdering people.” She looks over to the dead bodies of the raiders they’d stolen this camp from and shakes her head. “I forgot how much death you surround yourself with.”

“I surround myself with? Might I remind you, you fired the first shot, sweetheart.” Granted, he had shoved her out of her hiding spot and given her no choice about it. 

Her head shoots up and she glares at him, “You made me!” She opens her mouth and he grins. He enjoys provoking her like this. Even if the last time he had she’d shot him because of it, but it’s fun to rile her up. She always gets so pissed off, it entertains him to no end. 

To his disappointment, she closes her mouth and shakes her head, choosing not to engage with him. He sighs and rips off a piece of jerky. “When did you turn into such a wet fucking blanket?”

Her eyes flare with anger, despite that, he can hear how hurt she really is. “Maybe when you sold me!”

He tilts his head and runs his tongue over his teeth, “You ever gonna let that go? I told you it was a mistake. How was I supposed to know they were gonna breed you like a prize pig?”

She scoffs, the noise high pitched and shocked. She shakes her head and stares at him with wide eyes, “You are unbelievable.” He shrugs and takes a swig from the flask he’d stolen off one of the raiders. He’s not sure how they make their alcohol, or if they trade for it, but it’s fucking disgusting. He frowns at the flask and drains the rest of it before tossing it into the woods behind him. 

She sighs and runs a hand over her face, her voice tired as she asks, “What’s the plan here, Cooper?” 

He picks at his teeth and shakes his head, “With what?”

She leans against the log behind her and gestures at herself. “With me. What, are you going to wait for me to pass out so you can tie me up and send me back to the compound? I’ve seen the price on my head. I know how valuable I am to everyone in the Wastelands.”

He doesn’t know why what she’s saying bothers him so much but it does. “You really think I’d send you back there?”

Her face is devoid of anything as she responds, “Why wouldn’t you?”

It’s the bluntness with which she asks that, that bugs him. Like there’s no other possibility but him betraying her. Taking advantage of her while she was vulnerable and weak and then handing her over to the people who want her dead. He wouldn’t do that to her. 

He didn’t go through all this fucking trouble to find her just to lose her again. He wants to tell her as much but she’s on her feet and grabbing her bag before he can. “Look, I appreciate the help today, but I’m not interested in starting this partnership back up again. I think it’s better if we just part ways.”

He whips his gun out before he can think about what he’s doing. She freezes, still bent over and eyes his gun warily. “I’m afraid that’s not an option, darling.” He can’t let her leave again. And maybe this isn’t the best way to go about it, but he doesn’t know how else to stop her. 

“You gonna shoot me, Cooper?” She whispers, her own hand twitching for the revolver at her side. He stands up and grabs her wrists, ignoring the way she struggles against him. He binds her hands with his rope and he sits back down, 

“I’m not gonna turn you in and I’m not gonna shoot you. But you’re not getting out of here that easy, sweetheart.”

Her eyes narrow in on his, her fists clenched tightly in anger. “I killed two men with my hands bound today. What’s stopping me from killing you?”

He shrugs, “Nothing. There’s nothing stopping you, just like there’s nothing stopping me. But I’m not killing you, am I? See,” he leans forward, “I’ve fought too hard and spent too much time looking after you to just let you go now. We’re in this together, whether you want it or not.”

Her lips split in a sneer and she throws herself down on the log. “You’re all the fucking same. You treat me like a goddamn dog that needs to be beat into submission. I’m not some misbehaving pet, Cooper!” Her eyes well up and her voice breaks, “You don’t get to just leash me and expect me to be okay with it.”

“I’m under no illusions that you’re happy here, sweetheart.” He runs a hand down his face and she shakes her head in disbelief. 

“Then just let me go,” she’s bordering on begging now and his chest squeezes the longer she stares at him with those pleading eyes of hers. It’s not something he’s familiar with, this feeling, this longing for her to just shut the fuck up and stop making this so damn difficult for him. 

“I can’t,” he mutters, wanting her to just drop it. 

“Why not?” She snaps, dropping any pretenses of trying to get him to sympathize with her.

He surges forward and grabs her by the jaw. Her eyes widen in shock and he smashes their lips together, teeth clashing painfully. There’s nothing gentle or sweet about this kiss. Her teeth are ripping into his scarred lips until the taste of copper is spreading on his tongue. He groans, digging his fingers into her cheeks until her lips part. 

His tongue probes against hers, the taste of his blood spreading into her mouth as well. She whimpers, the noise stirring something in him he’d forgotten about. There’s an old desire bubbling in him that’s making him blind to the rest of the world. He wants her, more than he ever wants to admit. 

He’s wanted her for a long time before this and they both know it. How hard he’s fought against it, against moments like these. He didn’t think he was still capable of this feeling, this desire for her. But it’s consuming. She’s ruining him, running him in circles until he thinks he’s going insane. 

But it’s not the same gentle passion it once was. It’s as twisted as he’s become. The desire to possess, consume, covet until she’s his and only his to do with what he wants. His teeth dig into her, letting her blood overcome the taste of his own. He groans, his free hand grabbing her waist and yanking her closer. 

She tastes so much sweeter than he does, he wants to rip a chunk of her off and eat her whole. He’s so distracted he doesn't even notice her pulling out her gun until he’s shooting back from her. He lands roughly on the forest floor and groans, hands clutched over the bleeding hole in his gut. Pain radiates through his abdomen and he rolls onto his side.

He looks up at her in shock. She’s spitting their blood onto the ground, her bound hands wiping at her lips. “Asshole,” she mutters. She tucks her gun back in her holster and looks over at him. 

His eyes are wide in disbelief as he struggles to sit back up. The movement causes another wave of pain and he hisses through gritted teeth, “You shot me!”

She rolls her eyes and gives him a blank look, “You’ll live.” He limps back to his own seat and lifts his shirt, watching as the hole closes over slowly and the blood stops leaking. She watches as he heals and sighs, “Unfortunately.” He tugs it back down and sighs at the state of his shirt. 

“My shirt won’t.” He digs a finger into the hole and tugs on it, watching as it rips wider. Two hundred years he’s kept these clothes, she ruins them in a month. Un-fucking-believable. 

“Sew it,” she gripes, still wiping at her mouth. “I can’t believe you just fucking kissed me,” she frowns and spits again, bits of crimson lingering on her lips. 

He sighs and leans back against the tree. “Felt right in the moment.” It did, he wants to do it again. They’re even now, they’ve both shot each other twice. No reason for her to shoot again. 

He wants to feel the way she shivers against him and moans into his mouth. She can be pissed all she wants but she kissed back, she can’t deny that. He’s sure if she wasn’t tied up she’d be a bit more receptive to him. Or maybe she just needs time to cool off after the whole compound incident, a month seems like a reasonable amount of time. Then again, women are so damn unreasonable. 

She tugs a knife out of her boot and positions it between her knees. She places it between her wrists and saws at the rope until it falls free. She slides the knife back in her boot and tosses the ruined rope at him. 

He catches it with a sigh and glances up at her. “Why didn’t you do that earlier?”

Her eyes are alight with a challenge, “I wanted to see if you would let me go yourself.” Well, clearly, he had failed her little test. “I wanted to see if there was even a possibility I could ever trust you again.”

He gives her an unimpressed look, slightly pissed off about his shirt. He never should have taught her how to shoot. If he’d known it would come back to bite him in the ass he wouldn’t have. “And?”

She gives him a disbelieving look and shakes her head. “And instead of letting me go, you kissed me.“ She throws her hands up in astonishment and glares at him. “Why the hell would you think that was a good idea?”

He smirks and revels in the way she shivers at the sight. “Well, darling, I’ve always been better with actions not words.”

“Yeah,” her voice is a challenge, eyes hard and jaw clenched tightly in frustration. He loves the sight of her all riled up. He loves it even more knowing he’s the one getting her like this. “What were you trying to tell me with that little display?”

He doesn’t answer her question, not wanting to just yet. “You liked it, didn’t you?” Her mouth snaps shut and she looks away from him. He laughs, leaning back and giving her a smug look. “You can be pissed off at me as much as you want, sweetheart,” the nickname rolls off his tongue like a taunt and she sneers at him. “But you want me just the same as you used to.”

“Do you like hurting me? Is that why you keep me around? You’ve been alone for two hundred years, Cooper. And for the majority of them you’ve harbored this hatred for me because you thought I had abandoned you just like everyone else.” 

Her words strike a place deep inside him that has him on edge. She knows what she’s doing. He’s forgotten, in his time with her, that in the same way he can get under her skin, she can do it too. She knows him just as well, she’s just always been the better half of their duo. She never feels the need to stoop to the level he does. But she’s doing it now and it feels like a kick in the teeth. 

“And I’m the only one that’s actually stuck by you.” She laughs, but there’s an underlying pain to it. She looks away from him and wipes at her cheeks and his fists clench within his gloves. “Is this your revenge? You think by torturing me you get back at everyone whose ever fucked you over. I’m sick of it, Cooper. I’m not gonna let you use me anymore.”

“I feel for you,” he forces the words out. He doesn’t want to tell her this. He shouldn’t have to tell her this. She should just stick with him, it’s what they’d always done, it’s how it always should be. Them, together. But she’s fighting against that, against him, so much that he doesn’t have a choice. 

She’s backed him into a corner he doesn’t know how to get out of. “In a way I haven’t in a very long time. I can’t let you go. Don’t you get that, sweetheart? We’re in this together.”

She shakes her head and he sighs. “No,” she looks at him and just shakes her head again. “No, you don’t love me, Cooper, or you don’t want me at least. I’m not the same girl I was, that’s what you’re after. That idea in your head, of us together, that’s who I was. You were right, the Wastelands changes you. I can’t be her for you and I don’t want to be.”

He chuckles and she shrinks away from the sound in suspicion. “Newsflash, darling, I’m not the same man. I loved you a long time ago, sweetheart, but I’m not capable of that anymore. Not for the girl you were, anyway.”

She nodded, her arms wrapped around herself. She looked like she accepted the answer, but he could see beyond that, could see that she thought he was rejecting her. It hurt, she could hate him as much as she wanted, but that still hurt her. “Good,” she muttered, “she’s gone.”

“Well, good.” She shrank further into herself and he grinned.  “You. You as you are now. That’s what I want. I don’t give a shit about who we were, the only person I’ve wanted since I’ve been out here has been you. You’re the only person I’ve met who can actually keep up with me. I don’t give a shit if anyone in this godforsaken Wasteland lives or dies, but I give a shit about you. You’re also the only one who can knock me on my ass.”

Her eyes darted to the hole in his shirt and a small grin came over her lips. “Haven’t been shot a lot, have you, cowboy?”

“No,” he chuckles again and grins at her, “I haven’t. Though, I am still pretty pissed about the hole in my hat.”

Her tone loses a bit of her playfulness and she glares at him, “You more than earned that.”

He acquiesces and holds up his hands in surrender, “Maybe.” She scoffs at that and rolls her eyes. “But I think we’re even now.”

“Barely,” she mutters, rubbing at the bruises on her wrists. She glances up at him and sighs, a surrender in her eyes. “But, it’s close enough now.”

He stands up and she eyes him warily as he throws himself down on the log next to her. He holds out a hand, “What do you say, darling, partners?”

She sighs and stares at his hand for a long time. He doesn’t mind, he leaves it there, hovering between them. He knows she’ll take it. “Deny it as much as you want but this is how it’s meant to be. You can keep fighting it or save us both some time.”

She reaches forward and tentatively wraps a hand around his, she uses it to yank him forward, their faces separated by an inch. “Shoot me again,” she whispers, “and I won’t miss the next time I knock you on your ass.”

“Oh shit,” you jump at the kickback on the rifle and nearly drop it to the ground. Cooper laughs and reaches around you, taking it from you. 

“Maybe I should have started you off with something with a little less kick to it.” He props the rifle against the tree and glances over to the cans you’d been shooting at. Well, you’d gotten one out of five at least. 

In all fairness this was the first time you’d ever handled a gun, you’re sure you’re doing fine for a beginner. He sucks on his teeth and looks at your targets. The serious look on his face cracks and he’s clearly trying to fight off laughing. 

You shove at his shoulder, smiling, “Shut up. I’ve never used one of these things before.”

He picks the rifle back up and starts laughing now, “You mean a gun?” 

You throw your arms in the air in defeat and slump into the patio chairs he’s dragged to the back of the cabin. “This is pointless, anyway.” He cocks the rifle and lifts it up to aim properly. In quick succession he knocks the remaining four cans off the fence. You roll your eyes at him, “Show off.”

He smiles and takes a seat next to you. You remain silent for a while, gazing across the yard and to the towering mountains across from his cabin. You appreciate him inviting you here. When you’d told him how overwhelmed you’d been feeling with all the new publicity you hadn’t expected him to drag you all the way out to his mountain home. 

You wouldn’t have accepted if you’d known it was just going to be you and him. You’d thought he was bringing his wife and kid, too. Spending a long weekend playing house with Cooper wasn’t going to do anything in getting rid of your crush. It was just getting worse the longer you were around him.

Waking up everyday and having him be the first person to greet you was going to send you into an early grave. You swear your heart’s never beat this fast around anyone else. He seems to be the only man who's ever had you feeling this head over heels. 

“I think it’s important you learn.”

You glance over at him, surprised at how serious he sounds. He’s still staring out at the mountains, but his gaze is distant. His mind is some place else. “Why?” You ask, voice quiet, afraid to spoil the moment.

He finally blinks, gaze darting down to his hands and the rifle still in them. “It’s easy for people to dismiss the war nowadays. They weren’t there, they didn’t watch as hundreds of good men and women died for them.” You frown, sometimes it’s easy to forget that he’d been fighting on the frontlines. He’s so good at being a socialite, you feel guilty that even you sometimes forget he was a soldier before he was Cooper Howard. 

His voice is heavy, the tension thick around the both of you. “They seem to think the war is over. I know it’s not, it’s just going to get worse. People can bury their heads in the sand as long as they want, but when the fighting is at their front door, what are they going to do?”

You reach out, hand covering his own. He finally looks up at you and you smile. “I appreciate it, Cooper.”

His eyes quickly look at your hand before looking back at you. “For what?”

You shrug, moving closer to him and lacing your fingers with his. You shouldn’t indulge yourself like this, but you can’t help it. He seems so sad and you only want to make him feel better. You just want to take care of him, the way he takes care of you. 

“For always looking out for me. You’re always there, I appreciate it. I appreciate you.”

The sad cast over his face finally breaks and he smiles at you. His hand squeezes yours once, then again and he looks back out at the mountains without saying anything else. You don’t think he needs to, that either of you needs to. Sometimes you understand each other better without words. 

You’ll always be there for one another.

You eye him warily and he holds the jerky out further. “Aren’t you a little curious?” He taunts, waving the jerky around in front of your face. You know he thinks you won’t take it. That he’s just screwing with you. He’s been doing this ever since you agreed to tag along with him. Teasing you at every given opportunity. 

You snatch it from his hands and rip a piece of it off. It kind of tastes like beef, if not a little sweeter. There’s also that metallic radiated tang to it. You chew it slowly, savoring the slightly caught off guard look on his face. You swallow it down, forcing your face to stay straight and not give away how disgusted you feel right now. 

He chuckles, leaning back and looking at you with something that seems like appreciation. “I hope you know that was ass jerky.”

You gag now, glaring at him and tossing the rest of the jerky at his smug face. “You’re such a dick.” You take a swig from your canteen and swirl the water around your mouth. It gets rid of the taste well enough but you’re never going to get over the fact that you swallowed a part of someone’s ass. 

He suddenly gets serious, swatting at your arm and motioning to the front of the store. You crouch beside him, watching as a raider walks out of the front doors. You don’t get why they chose an old movie store for their hideout, but Cooper had it on good authority that they had a decent cache of supplies inside. 

The last time you’d followed him into one of these things, you’d nearly died, and then he’d sold you. You’re still not fully trusting of him. The only reason you’re with him now is because you need extra security from bounty hunters after getting booted out of Filly. 

If he wasn’t such a good shot, you would have never given him a second glance. Despite how much he insists the compound was an honest mistake, you find the trust slow to come. You’ll let him take the lead on this one, you’re not confident in him having your back if things take a turn. 

He moves forward and you hang back, keeping watch while he slits the guard’s throat. He lowers the body quietly to the ground and you creep behind him, following him through the doors of the store. 

This group is smaller than the last one you dealt with. Only five of them with no extra guards outside. Cooper ducks behind a dust covered shelf before they can spot either of you. You go to the other side of the store, moving slowly along the edge until you have a good shot. 

You take out one man and Cooper manages to hit two more before they start firing off their own guns. You dart back behind the shelf, willing to let Cooper handle the last two. But one of them dives behind the shelf and grabs at you. 

Another shot goes off and his friend’s body hits the ground while he rounds the corner with you. He’s got an arm wrapped around your throat and the barrel of his gun pushing so hard into your skull you can feel an indent forming. 

It wouldn’t be hard to shoot this guy, you still have your gun in your hand. Cooper seems to realize that, too, from the questioning look he gives you. You drop your gun to the floor, you want to see what he’ll do. 

Maybe you’re stupid, gambling with your life like this. But you don’t feel any fear, not from the guy holding you hostage at least. You just keep your eyes locked on Cooper’s. They’re so familiar to you, yet so distant. Like a stranger you’ve known all your life. 

He slowly rises from the floor, hands raised in the air in surrender. “Alright, let’s just see if we can’t talk this out like gentlemen.”

The guy holding you jerks you roughly, gun banging painfully against your temple. You wince but remain quiet. “Stay back or I’ll blow her goddamn brains out!”

Cooper’s eyes dart from your face to the guy. He huffs, frowning and pursing his lips like he’s trying to think of a way to talk himself out of this. He could leave, he’s got enough time to make it through the door before he fires at him. 

Or he could help you. 

It’s the only reason you let yourself get caught. If he wants your trust he’s going to have to prove it. Cooper looks at you and a grin splits across his face. It’s like he’s read your mind, from the knowing look on his face you think he might’ve. 

Then again, you never really needed words to talk to each other. 

With a speed that never fails to catch you off guard his hand darts under his jacket and he draws his gun. He’s shooting the man before you even get a chance to brace yourself. Your body gets dragged back slightly by the dead weight but Cooper moves forward and wraps a hand around your shirt, tugging you into him. 

Your hands shoot out, bracing yourself against his chest. He peers at you from under his hat and grins, “You didn’t really think I was gonna let you go that easy did you, darling?” Your eyes dart down to his lips, you feel like you can still taste him. 

The timing of his kiss might not have been appropriate, but he certainly hadn’t made it forgettable. Nothing about him was forgettable. As much as you wished he could be. You hated yourself for still letting yourself fall into his trap. 

Hollywood might have once labeled you as the most seductive actress of your generation, but Cooper had you beat. He kept you coming back even when you knew you shouldn’t. He had you wrapped around him and all you wanted to do was squeeze until he let you go. 

You push off of him, ignoring how much you want to pull him closer. You move towards their pile of supplies, “Let’s see what we’ve got.”

There are a few different posters set up in the old movie store that intrigue him. But the one that’s caught his attention the most is set up directly behind her. Her back is to it, so she hasn’t gotten a chance to see it yet, but it’s all he can focus on. 

The Outlaw and The Sheriff

Their first movie together. 

He looks at her and huffs out a laugh, she glances up at him for a moment before she begins rifling through her bag again. She looks like she walked right off the fucking poster, hat and all. She’s the spitting image of herself, but she seems so different. 

Maybe it’s the eyes. The light there has changed, dimmed slightly from how it used to be. She used to seem so naive to the world, like a little lamb that just needed some guidance. Now, he wonders just how much of the world she’d seen before he found her. If maybe she had never been as innocent to it’s cruelties as he’d once assumed. 

She stepped into this new role of hers just as quickly as he had. You didn’t just change that quickly without knowing already just how awful people could be. 

“Sweetheart,” she looks up and he points behind her. She turns around and looks up to the poster.

She scoffs, moving to stand beside him, “I always hated how I looked in that.”

He glances over at her and shakes his head, “Probably shouldn’t show you a mirror anytime soon, then.” Her hands reach up to fiddle with the brim of her hat and she smiles, a real smile for once. 

“No, I suppose not.” Her hands trace over her lips, he glances back at the poster. At that old signature of hers. She always had to have those red lips. “It’s so different,” she whispers and he knows she didn’t mean for him to hear. Her eyes glisten and he frowns. 

He shouldn’t have shown her. It’s not like he enjoyed seeing those fucking Vault-Boy posters, he sure as hell hated seeing clips of himself. Why would she enjoy seeing who she used to be? Who they used to be?

Things used to be so simple. He loved her, she loved him. Now he’d fucked up so much he wasn’t sure she could ever look at him the way she used to. He didn’t want who she was before, he couldn’t handle that. This new her, well, he didn’t give her near enough credit. 

But he wouldn’t hate seeing someone look at him like that again. Endless adoration and unflinching loyalty. He knew he would follow her anywhere, he’d realized that a while ago. He didn’t have anything in the Wastelands, nothing but hate and spite to keep him going all this time.

Now, he had her. He just needed her to realize that she had him just the same. She had him wrapped around her and he hated it and loved it at the same time. Hated her and loved her for it all the same. 

He tugs his glove off before he reaches for her. He cups her cheek, thumb tracing over her lips before she turns towards him. His eyes meet hers and he smiles slightly at the familiarity and mystery to them. So much of her he recognizes and then there are these new parts he’s yet to discover. 

He wants to discover all of her. Learn everything he can about her all over again, feed his desire to consume her entirely. 

She pulls him in this time, her lips chapped and cracked. Her arms wind around his neck, yanking him closer and he tugs at her. She tastes as sweet as he remembers and it only makes him crave more. More of her, more of anything she’ll let him have. 

She pulls back from him, pressing her hand against his chest, slowly backing him against the wall. He lets her ease him to the floor and she throws a leg over his lap. She settles herself above him, both her hands tightly grasping his neck, crushing their bodies together, eyes gazing intently into his own. He doesn’t know what she’s looking for in him but she seems to find it when she leans in once more. 

She isn’t giving him a chance at control, she’s got a leash on him, pulling back anytime he tries to lead. He relents, following her as she slowly explores him. 

He’s not sure how long this peace between them will last before one of them inevitably fucks up. But they’re stuck together now. It doesn’t matter what happens, he’s not letting her get away from him again. 

She’s his, always has been, always will be. It’s been that way since before the fallout. He’s led her, guided her.

He had loved her as a different man. History always seems to repeat itself with them. As twisted as the world is, as twisted as they’ve become, they always seem to drift back together. No matter how much the both of them fight against it. 

He’s giving in now, giving into her. 

end. — I do not own the characters or the game/show Fallout, but this writing is my own all rights reserved © not-neverland06 2024. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

[munsonsmixtapes]

Hey! I saw your post about requests and I have one (I will try to keep it short):

Reader feeling self-conscious after having a baby so they start to work out only for Eddie to watch like 🤤🤤 which makes them stop being insecure because he’s still clearly very attracted to this body. 

Can be smutty or not, your choice.

If that’s not your thing no worries, have a happy Saturday! 

Ooh, I love this one! Thanks so much for the request, lovely!

cw: MDNI (18+) unprotected sex (please don’t do this) body insecurity, mention of pregnancy, hurt comfort

husband!Eddie x wife!reader

It had been a couple of months since you had your baby and you hadn’t even thought of anything but her for the first few weeks. After you had gotten into a rhythm with Eddie of taking care of the baby, it gave you more time to think about things. Like the chores that had piled up. Your job that you needed to get back to. Your body.

It had been months and you had done anything to get it back to what it was before you had Charlotte. Eddie hadn’t said a word about it, but you were sure that he wasn’t in love with the way you looked, especially since there was a bunch of loose skin. Maybe that was why he hadn’t had sex with you since you the baby had come.

Because of that, you decided to work out in your home gym while Eddie was at work. You put on your usual working out set which and noticed that it fit differently. The bra was a little tight and the shorts were shorter than you had anticipated. But, it was all you had, so you shrugged it off and headed down the stairs to work out.

The gym that you had spent so much time in suddenly looked intimidating. You hadn’t been in it since you had gotten pregnant since you didn’t have the energy, but now you were ready.

You put on your headphones and blasted the mix you usually played when exercising and began to stretch. You bent over and took a deep breath as you touched your toes. You then stood back up before bending back over and jumped when you felt a pair of hands grab your ass.

You whipped around and removed your headphones, turning to see your husband, Eddie standing behind you. He was still in his mechanic uniform and had soot on his face and all over his hands. He put his hands up in defense and stepped away to give you your space but you stepped forward.

“What’ya doin’?” He asked, taking the time to check you out in your very tight outfit. The way your bra pushed up your tits and the way your shorts hugged your ass in all the right places. God, you still had it.

“Working out. Is that a problem?” You put your hands on your hips, anger coursing through you.

“Not a problem at all, hon. I just-you’ve been a bit on edge lately.” You weren’t surprised that he noticed. He always payed so much attention to you.

“Of course I’m on edge, Eddie! Look at me!”

“I’m looking, honey,” he took you into his arms. “and I don’t see any issues.”

“Oh really?” You asked, pulling away from him, moving your hands to the lose skin of your stomach. “This isn’t an issue?”

“Not at all. You’re my honey and I-I love you just the way you are.” Eddie dropped to his knees and pressed multiple kisses to your stomach and hearing your laugh was music to his ears. “See? Love you and your stomach, bub.”

“Okay,” you laughed. “Okay, I get it. Now kiss me, please?”

“Already kissing you.” He pressed more kisses to the skin and it was cruelly making you feel better. Almost as if it was magic.

“I meant my lips,” you rolled your eyes. Even in a sweet moment, the man was so unserious.

“Which ones?” He looked back up at you with a wink.

“The ones on my face.”

“Gotta be specific. Could kiss every inch of you.” You knew that was true and almost wanted him to.

“I know you could.”

Eddie stood to his feet and wrapped his arms around your shoulders, pulling you into a sweet kiss, his lips capturing yours. Yours went to his waist, wrapping around them tight. As his lips moved with yours, all you could think about was his comment about kissing you everywhere. Maybe you’d take him up on it. That would surely do the trick to make you feel better.

You pulled away and he tried to chase your lips, but you kept your distance, wanting time to speak before he pulled you in again. He was always so good at doing that. Especially when you were in one of your silly arguments. He was always able to make you forget what you were even arguing about just with his lips.

“So um, about you kissing every inch of me…”

“You want me to?” Eddie’s face lit up and it made your knees weak at how excited he still was to please you after all those years.

“Please,” you begged and he was quick to pull you in for another kiss before kissing lips moved to your cheek and then your other one. Your chin. Your forehead. He then moved to your jaw and down your neck.

He got to your shoulder and moved your bra strap out of the way to get more access to it. He then moved to the other side to give it the same attention. His movements were slow and sweet and you could feel yourself getting wet at the feeling of his lips on your skin.

Once he was done with your chest, you lifted your arms up and Eddie pulled your bra off and his eyes widened as he caught sight of your tits.

“Fuck, honey,” he gasped, looking down at your chest. “You’re so fucking hot. Shit.” He bent down and licked a stripe across one of your nipples before bringing it into his mouth before giving it a suck while swirling his tongue around it. He then moved to the other one and did the same thing, wanting to give it the same attention.

“Oh,” you moaned. “So good, Eds.” He kissed all the way down to your stomach and pulled down your shorts to reveal your pussy. He lowered you to the floor and helped you removed your socks and shoes before fully taking off your shorts and tossing them behind him.

You slowly unzipped his uniform and helped him remove it before taking off his boxers and throwing them aside. You were so desperate for him that you didn’t even care about a condom. You would have been so happy if you turned out to have another baby. So lucky.

“Don’t have a condom,” he shrugged. “But I can go get one.”

“Don’t you fucking dare,” you pointed at him. “Need you so fucking bad, baby,” you whined.

“But what if-”

“I don’t care,” you cut him off, already knowing what he was going to say.

“So you don’t care about getting pregnant again?”

“Now that you’ve assured me that you really do love me unconditionally, of course I don’t care. Now please fuck me.”

“What the princess wants, the princess gets,” he winked and slowly thrusted into you, both of you moaning at the feeling of his bare cock inside of you.

He moved slow and steady and you couldn’t believe that you had actually gone so many months without him inside of you. It felt so good and he always knew exactly what you wanted before you did.

“Oh, Eddie,” you moaned and he smiled at the sound that he had missed so much. “Fuck, baby, right there, yeah.”

“Look at you,” he took your face in one of his hands and turned your face towards the mirror, forcing you to look into it. “See how fucking hot you look underneath me? Look at you taking me so well, doll.” You watched the two of you fuck in the mirror and were even more turned on, feeling yourself getting even more wet as you watched your bodies move together.

Eddie reached just to right spot and you turned back to him, your back arching in euphoria as you reached your climax, screaming his name as you did so. Afterwards, he pulled you and cleaned the two of you up before carrying you up the stairs so you both could take a much needed shower.

[chaiifluuf]

Heart to heart — d. osamu

synopsis. seeing your boyfriend’s ex makes you question if you really are enough for him

content. fem!reader, ada!reader, hurt/comfort, has a made-up character

notes. a request written here ! @hyunorue, @walnutnut since you wanted to be tagged, i adjusted a few things but hope you enjoy nonetheless <3

“‘samu, we just had a lunch break..” 

you mention softly as you let him lead you out of the agency office. of course dazai wants to ditch work with you once again despite all your efforts to make him do the opposite. often you don’t go along with his antics since you actually value the paperwork and don’t want to stress kunikida even further. unfortunately, today was one of those days where dazai wins.

“so? we were still working then and have every right to get a break now!” dazai tells you as if there is no problem with what he said. you raise an eyebrow and stare at him sceptically. “more like i was the one working, you just pouted and sat next to me because i wasn’t focusing on you.” you point out while both of you walk down the stairs.

“how cruel, bella! i did write on my report,” he says dramatically, holding his free hand to his chest when the other hand is still intertwined with yours. “i saw you add exactly five words.” you respond bluntly as you remember your gaze flickering to his laptop to see what he was doing from before. dazai gives you a fake offended look before opening the door for you to exit.

the cafe right below the agency was the go-to place to take a break or even have lunch. and today was no different. two of you sit down at one of the tables and order your usual. you still weren’t at ease though. “you know if kunikida happened to be at the office currently then we wouldn’t be sitting here right now.” 

dazai hummed indifferently, taking your hand in his again as he rubbed gentle circles on the back of it. a warm smile tugged at his lips. “kunikida this and kunikida that but how about you relax? don’t worry, i’ll just—”

he abruptly stopped speaking when he looked behind you towards the entrance of the cafe, the sound of the doorbell ringing filling the space. you feel confused and decide to call his name, but to no avail. before you can even turn around a woman’s voice can be heard throughout the room.

“oh my god! is that you, dazai?” she gasps and you saw the way his body stiffened. almost right away you can tell something is wrong. the woman walks up to the table you were sitting at, an amused grin on her face. you can’t help but wonder who she is. dazai has never mentioned knowing other women besides you and some others at the agency. what is going on?

“why long time no see! you do remember me right?” she says to him with an upbeat tone, her gaze shifting to you afterwards. the moment she did you realised something. she looked pretty. stunning even, her golden wavy hair fitting so well with her hazel eyes. while her expression seemed friendly, as soon as she looked at you, you felt somewhat uncomfortable. you felt as if she judged your whole being right now.

“i do, yuna. what are you doing here?” dazai’s voice was much colder in comparison to talking to you earlier. okay so dazai does know her. then she has to be someone from his past. someone he has never told you about. perhaps a friend, a relative or a… oh.  

yuna merely hums in response. “this cafe is a public place, no? just wanted to get a coffee but ran into you instead. how have you been?” she asks dazai, mostly ignoring you and it makes you feel like you’re not supposed to be here. your suspicions about who she is make this even worse. 

dazai sighs rather heavily. “now is not the time. seriously.” it’s obvious that he is trying to get her to leave but yuna doesn’t seem to get the hint. “woah you’re so tense, i mean no harm…” she says with a softer tone despite the playful smile growing on her lips, calmly bringing her hand to dazai’s shoulder as if i wasn’t even there. it’s becoming harder to not get annoyed because who does she think she is? 

your lips form into a thin line as you watch her get dangerously comfortable around him. you were about to give yuna a piece of your mind but dazai already got ahead of you. without hesitation, he pries her hand off his shoulder and she’s surprised by his action. 

“yuna, this is your last warning. i need you to stop acting like we’re anything more than strangers and respectfully, get the fuck out of here.” he spoke with a stern tone and looked into her eyes the entire time. you’re definitely not used to seeing him get genuinely mad at someone. 

small shock crosses her face and she seems taken aback by his sudden words. a moment of tense silence passes before yuna scoffs. “fine, be like that then. have fun with your new little girlfriend,” she says mockingly, her friendly tone long gone and you were not ready for the look she gave you. it was full of loathing and bitterness, like you were far beneath her.

and now you want to sink six feet underground. you hate how much she managed to affect you and you pray that she can’t tell from your expression. you shouldn’t even care what she thinks of you but assuming that she had some type of relationship with dazai before, you can’t help but feel out of place.

yuna finally leaves the place and dazai’s eyes soften when he looks back at you. “i’m so sorry that you had to witness this,” he says with a sigh, “are you okay?” you can see it in his gaze that he is really apologetic and you don’t how to feel anymore. all of this could’ve been avoided if you just stayed at the agency.

“yeah, i’m fine. was that your ex?” you ask, ignoring the stirring emotions in your chest. dazai seems to think a little before answering. “not exactly. i haven’t talked to her in years now. i thought she moved away… but it doesn’t matter. let’s just focus on us, yeah?” 

you still had so many questions but you simply nod and take a sip of your drink. a worried glint remains in his eyes but you decide to ignore it and act like you’re okay with everything that happened. 

because you’re anything but okay.

yosano keeps giving you strange looks as you look through some files. you try to focus on work but the cafe incident won’t leave your mind no matter how hard you try. she can probably tell something is wrong. she’s a doctor after all. 

“y/n, did something happen?” yosano speaks up calmly while she sits on her office chair. you shift your gaze from the paper to her and blink in surprise. “ah, no. why are you asking?” you respond, trying to seem clueless.

“you’ve been staring at the same page for over five minutes now and i know for a fact you’re not that slow of a reader. your thoughts are elsewhere.” okay maybe it was more obvious than you anticipated. you know there’s no use to denying her at this point. with a defeated sigh, you sit down on a chair near her desk.

“it’s kind of stupid.” you’re still a little hesitant about this because while you and her got along well, you haven’t opened up about your problems to her before. her face softens slightly as she leans back on her chair. “surely it’s not if it has you acting this odd.”

a minute of silence passes before you start talking. “well me and osamu went on a break to the cafe and then this woman appeared out of nowhere, someone who he knew in the past and…” you pause, gathering your words, “after a tense conversation she finally leaves us alone. even if she did try to look friendly at first, i could tell she did not like me.”

“so it was jealousy or something?” yosano guessed, listening intently and you sigh again in return. “i don’t know. i asked osamu about her too and i didn’t really get any answers,” you say as you think about it. why did he barely tell you anything? is he hiding something? god you’re starting to overthink again.

yosano notices your troubled expression and decides to slowly move a little closer to you with her chair. “listen, let me ask you this—how did he react when she started talking to him?” she asks while looking into your eyes. 

“very irritated, in a way that I rarely see.” that’s true, there was a genuine glimpse of anger in his irises, it was surprising even to you. yosano nods and seems to think for a moment before speaking.

“do you trust him?”

you’re slightly caught off guard by the question. of course you trust him. through all the missions you have gone on with him, he always makes your safety the top priority and you know that you can trust him with your life. 

without thinking twice you nod in response and a small smile appears on her face. “then i’m sure you don’t need to get too concerned. plus from what i’ve seen, he loves and cares about you more than anything else.” she tells you with a warm tone.

her words manage to somewhat ease you because she must be right. you love him dearly and he feels the same. and that’s what is important. yeah, you can’t forget that. you give yosano a grateful look. “you’re right, thank you.”

the confidence you had a few hours ago is long gone. you don’t know how long you have been sitting on your bedroom floor alone, stuck in your thoughts. you left the agency a while ago, telling dazai you were going to a case related place so he wouldn’t get suspicious. in reality you couldn’t understand yourself. why are you so upset? even yosano assured you that there’s no need to worry.

everything was fine before going to the cafe and having that encounter with her but it shouldn't matter because it’s plain to see that dazai doesn’t care about her nor like her anymore. it’s not like he’s cheating on you which you know he would never do. but you do wonder how they met, you wonder if they were actually together and on top of all, you wonder what happened between them. 

because despite her cold behaviour, she was gorgeous to say the least. and maybe if you got along with her then she would have a nicer personality as well. honestly yuna seemed like everything you’re not. it makes you doubt yourself. just what does dazai see in you? you have heard his flowery and flattering comments more than you can count but what if he doesn’t mean them?

it’s such a silly thought but you can’t stop pondering over it. you’re so much in your head that you didn’t even notice to hear the soft creak of the door opening.

“love?”

your breath falters. you know that voice all too well. you can’t find it in yourself to answer, keeping your face buried in your arms as your knees are pressed to your chest. you hear him moving and you can tell he’s closer to you now.

“what’s wrong?” dazai asks gently and you can’t help but feel embarrassed since you are not sure how to answer. you wish you could act like you’re fine.

you stay quiet and after a moment he speaks up again. “yosano told me some stuff regarding you,” he says and now you really have no chance of hiding anything. it never crossed your mind that she might tell him. he knows why you are like this and you hate that.

“osamu, why are you with me?” your voice is more unstable than you would’ve liked. you raise your head and see that he’s sitting right beside you on the floor. his gaze goes softer and more concerned when you look at him. you then realise your cheeks are wet.

“why? because i love you of course,” he says so easily, a tender smile adorning his lips. you remain doubtful. “then will you tell me who she was? was yuna really not your ex?” you question him as you can feel your throat getting tighter, desperate for answers.

dazai’s smile fades and he lets out a quiet sigh. “me and her were friends with benefits at best. sometimes i could tell she wanted to be more than that but unbeknownst to her, i was aware of all the other boys she was hanging out with. we had an argument over it and i ended everything with her on the spot.”

you stare at him for a few seconds as you process his words. he is not lying, you can tell that much. you suck in a breath as your vision grows slightly blurry. “i just don’t get it. she was so pretty, osamu. out of all people you chose me when i’m barely anything in comparison to her. i—“ your voice cracks as you try to stop your tears. you have never seen yourself the way he does and at times it scares you because what if one day he will see you exactly like you see yourself?

you avoid his gaze and the fact he hasn’t said a single word makes you want to cry more. he brings his hand to your cheek and slowly guides you back to face him. what greeted you instead of pity was a warm smile and eyes full of fondness.

“my dear, are you hearing yourself right now? without any exaggeration, you’re the most breathtaking woman i have ever met inside and out. i would never love someone so much based off only their appearance. and do you know what makes you so precious?” 

you sniffle as your gaze is connected to his. you can’t help but lean into his touch while his hand cradles the side of your face. “what.?” you ask.

“you make me feel human. you make life worth living and i couldn’t be happier to spend the rest of my days with you.” his tone is filled with tenderness and sincerity. it almost makes you question whether you’re dreaming but his touch wouldn’t feel so real and soothing in any of them. 

and then you smile lightly. you really were overthinking it. as relief washes over you, your body moves on its own and your wrap around his waist, hugging him tightly. dazai returns the gesture and places a kiss on your head, softly rubbing your back. tears were still escaping your eyes but this time it wasn’t out of sadness. 

he suddenly seems to remember something and whispers into your ear. “oh and there are some flowers waiting on the table for you.”

my writing is so weird in this i’m sorry (ㅠ﹏ㅠ)

[billskeis]

Hello!

I wanted to ask if it's possible that you write double smut with bill and tom? Like, they share her? At the same time, of course 😏

Thank you.

ᡣ𐭩 the kaulitz twin’s after-party “party”

“hey y/n! glad you could make it!” bill exclaimed as the two of you exchanged kisses on each side of the cheek, “thank you guys for inviting me!! ‘nd congrats on the awards, i’m so proud of you guys, hi tom!” you reach out an arm to hug the older twin, his arm wrapped around your waist lingering tightly, and longer than expected.

a smirk frames his face, “lookin’ good tonight,” you playfully spin around in your dress as you blush at his flirts, “oh you, you know i had to; couldn’t show down for my two best friends!”

and that’s what you guys would call it. best friends. you were there when tokio hotel weren’t tokio hotel. devilish, black question mark. since the beginning of time, you supported the four on their rockstar journey whilst also venturing yours. being one of the top soloists right now, tokio hotel and you were a hit! however, what comes with being so close with the twins, comes unwarranted feelings.

the twins eyed you up and down, and eyes just had to linger a little longer than they should’ve to where you’d noticed. cheeks flushed. you stood there in a little tight number, standing tall with your red black pumps.

adjusting themselves, bill clears his throat whilst tom adjusts his t-shirt collar, is it getting hot in here? you can’t help but look down at your heels, feeling small between the kaulitz twins that tower each one of your sides.

“so uh, y/n, you.. busy after this?” tom asks, your eyes widen at the sudden question. what could they possibly want to do after their after party? you were hoping to just go home and rest, considering your busy schedule that consumed most of your social life, but staying up a little later couldn’t hurt right? you take a swig of your alcoholic beverage as you smile, “nope! wanna do something?”

mischievous. as one would call it, the look on their faces. you, oblivious, were not aware of their intentions behind such a question. maybe you weren’t smarter than you looked, or perhaps you were. but you definitely didn’t have any social cues when it came to men. tom wrapped an arm around your waist yet again, you let it rest there. it’s a friendly gesture, to protect you from other men of course!

that was half true.

“let’s go to ours, we have better drinks there,” bill suggests.

that was a total lie.

“but what about the after party?” you cocked your head to the side in genuine curiosity. why would the twins leave their own party that they hosted for their band? odd, you thought, but because it wasn’t your party to begin with and you were JUST a guest, there was no point in further questioning it.

“don’t worry about it, georg and gustav are handling it, see?” as tom points towards the crowd to find double g gyrating with one another and some fans.

you laugh, not realizing that the two of them now have you enclosed even closer between them. as tom’s arm still remains, bill’s hand adorns your shoulder.

“shall we?” he asks.

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚

“i—um—fuck! we.. shouldn’t be doing t-this..” saying that aloud sounds stupid, because how could anybody believe you while you slam your hips down onto tom’s lap, bill’s lips attached to your neck as he paints your neck with various shades of blue, reds and purple.

tom groans as your silky walls clench down on his length, tip hitting your g spot as you wince out in pleasure, “relax baby, paparazzi didn’t follow us back so you have nothing to worry about,” bill unlatches his mouth from your neck, a string of saliva remaining as he giggles looking at the state he’s left your upper body in.

“perfect,” a pleased hum emits from bill as he frees his hard-on from his boxers, whining as the cold air hits his throbbing and needy member.

with a shudder, bill guides one of your hands to the head of his tip, smearing the pre all over the sensitive mushroom head as you work your way up and down his cock.

“oh fuck, just like that..” bill placing his hand over yours in an aid to jerk him off as he would himself, kissing atop of your mouth as his tongue piercing glides over your oral cavity, feeling every nook and cranny of your mouth that has you gasping for more. with a lack of attention, tom pouts as you prioritize bill over him. tilting his pelvis, tom jerks his hips into yours, abusing your walls at a new angle that ends up deepening your kiss with bill, squeezing the head of his cock, “mmphh!”

“tom. be nice.”

“she can handle it, right y/n? you can handle this dick..” tom says with a low chuckle.

melting into the kiss, both you and bill ellicit sweet little cries to one another, “i did it ‘cause i wanted more attention, schatz,” you hear from behind you. as you break the kiss between you and bill turning your head to face the figure you rode, that looks at you with puppy dog eyes.

your cunt is already sensitive, it’s been about two hours since you’ve guys began, well, this. you really wondered how you got yourself into such a mess. maybe it was the way that tom’s little movements on you had your knees buckling, or the way that bill’s smile warmed your heart. you think to yourself, you’re just friends. juuuust friends.

friends don’t do the things you’re doing.

while getting off of tom’s lap, you position yourself onto bill’s, cunt already leaking onto his member and wasting no time and sliding down on his length. bill grips balls of sheets into his fists as he restrains himself from taking you all for himself, “oh gott, y-y/n,” his mouth hanging low as he lets out a strained sob from how sensitive he is. you’re warm, and still tight, and bill can’t help but feel as though he’s in heaven.

tom is still and watches with wide eyes as he soon realizes your mouth engulfs his dick, tongue swirling over his tip as you messily spit and drool saliva all over his cock, “damn.. you little minx, didn’t think ya’d be into this,” holding your hair into a makeshift ponytail with his hand, using his opposite to pet the top of your head, bobbing up and down.

bill hands hold each side of your ass as he guides your hips up and down his cock, biting his lip as he gasps from how greedily your pussy swallows his cock, “such a slut huh? like the way we take you at the same time.. one cock wasn’t enough, you needed two?” be nice, he said. fucking hypocrite. his dirty words are mean, but have an inverse impact on you as your cunt tightens around him along with a moan vibrating in your throat, tom curses, “oh fuck ‘m not gonna last long..”

tom does everything in his power to hold himself from fucking his hips into your mouth, but it also isn’t helpful considering the fact that bill’s thrusts from behind pushes tom further down your throat. “shitshitshit, bill.. ya close?” “m-mmhm..”

like a pig roasted on a spit, like the slut you truly are, holes fucked by your two best friends, your hips and mouth stutter to escape both ends.

“gonna cum sweet girl?” tom asks as he cups your cheek with one hand, thumb swiping over the tears that spill from the ongoing pleasure that surges through your body. both twins are close as well, eager to finish as there’s an unrelenting tempo to bill’s thrusts and tom hastily working his hands on your head in guiding your mouth, fully savouring his taste.

“coming..!”

one quick thrust all at once, you slightly gag on tom and tense your body as the three of you came simultaneously, shaky and trembling. cum paints your insides from opposite ends, filling you to the brim as electricity jolts from the inside out. as bill and tom empty their loads, they finally let out, you’ve managed to swallow all of tom’s, but bill’s seeps from between your legs.

quickly, bill shoves his fingers into your cunt, leaving them there as you wail, ‘b-bill!’ overstimulated, he scoffs jokingly, letting out a quick ‘what?’ as he then removes his fingers admiring his cream-pie.

laying flat on the bed, your body slightly twitches from the lingering pleasure. tom reaches out to hand you a water-bottle as bill uses a warm washcloth to clean you up. thanking the two, both join you in the king-sized bed for a long needed cuddle session.

now let’s just say, the media has found a new scoop on their new hit rockstars.

but you’ll deal with that tomorrow morning!

guys am losinggg my mind i miss my moots i missed my passion for writing i miss thriving :c lmk if i suck i’ll do better

interact if ur still active , pls </3 pls comment and talk 2 me i wanna be more engaging

[revehae]

warnings: noncon, drugging

wc. 837

repost. i found this in my docs accidentally (which is silly because when i intentionally looked for it i couldn’t find it…?)

the night feels mistier than it looks, the moon marveling down at itself as it reflects in the water and a bridge of light gleams gently across the still lake. jeno’s car isn’t parked too far. if you tried to walk there in this state, it wouldn’t feel that way, but it’s just shy of the edge.

mark and jeno would never let you make that journey though, not without their support. you never used to think that you were a lightweight, but considering mark and jeno have to nurse you every time you drink together, it was safe to say that you couldn’t hold your liquor.

they’re such good friends, you always tell yourself the morning after, helping you take care of yourself and still inviting you back the next time. you tried to tell them that you wouldn’t be upset if they didn’t want you to come, you wouldn’t want to babysit a drunk grown woman either, but the two insist that you are far from a nuisance.

tonight is no different from any other friday night that you spend getting drunk with your trustworthy friends. you each have a couple of drinks, downing shots in between laughter and chatter. nothing’s out of the blue, really. until it is. until that strange, familiarly unfamiliar feeling creeps up on you, the isolation of your debilitated senses, the lack of control altogether.

it always goes like this. a few shots, some jokes, some stumbling around. mark and jeno crack the jokes now, laughing at how drunk you are, but nevertheless holding onto you. jeno’s holding onto your left while mark’s got your right, their distinct touches peculiarly familiar to you for whatever reason. you know mark’s calloused hands and hardened palms when you feel them, as you do jeno’s strong grip, because he never not fails to remember his strength.

they guide you to the car, assuring you that they’re going to sober you up with some water mark brought to jeno’s car but for whatever reason didn’t think to bring out with the the drinks. and then it’s blank, foggy and unclear.

you don’t remember jeno’s unforgiving hold on your wrists, his merciless pace as if he’s trying to squeeze you into his leather seat. you don’t remember his degrading little words as he breaks character, going on about how you’re so, so stupid. so trusting. too trusting. you don’t remember mark’s toughened hands on your hips as he bulldozes your pussy, nothing but, “fuck,” leaving his mouth.

hell, you don’t even remember hearing them play rock paper scissors to decide who gets to have their wicked way with you before the other, mark being the lucky guy tonight.

because when your senses are restored, the sun is up and you aren’t at the lake anymore nor are you inside of jeno’s car. given that mark’s place is closest, they took you there for the night, and it’s his spare room that you wake up inside of.

when you meet mark and jeno in the morning, they even have breakfast going, and everything’s so overwhelmingly normal in spite of the strange feeling that possesses you.

because when mark wraps his arm around you in a sweet hug, his hand brushes a sliver of your exposed skin even though you’re fully dressed, and it feels strange. when jeno whispers something in your ear about mark’s cooking skills or lack thereof, his tone and the little chuckle that follows is too familiar.

and it starts to occur to you, the memories of what happened the night before, through a thick, blurry haze. mark’s mangling weight on top of your body and rough fingers. jeno’s harsh words that are hardly jokes, violent and sweaty skin sticking to yours.

it’s so distant that you can’t tell if it’s a dream or a memory, but to your horror, it feels so real. it explains the stinging around your wrists and the bruising at your hips, the sticky stuff in your underwear.

but you don’t want to believe that mark and jeno are capable of hurting you. not when they take care of you so much more than they have to, not when they’re always so sweet and kind, so loving.

you ask mark and jeno if anything happened last night a couple of moments into breakfast, an unsettling feeling like bile in your throat. it’s different than an average hangover, it spreads all over and wrecks through your whole being like an implacable virus.

mark and jeno play dumb, as if they’re totally oblivious to what you’re implying, even if they remember in detail what you would never be able to recall as descriptively as they do amongst each other. they say that you passed out in the car, and it’s so convenient, almost too convenient, but that’s their story and they stick to it.

and really, you don’t press for the truth, because you wouldn’t know how to accept your friends being anybody but who you think they are anyway.

[miley1442111]

(part 5)party choices- a.donaldson

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a/n: fem reader but as per usual, imagine what you like :)

summary: when you find out about his betrayal and how your relationship truly ends. (dw there are more parts after this :))

pairing: art donaldson x reader

warnings: angst, feelings of disappointment, hurt, cheating, sexual content, etc. +

PART 1: before his choice PART 2: choices and chances PART 3: choices and meetings PART 4: wrong choice, wrong move

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Art thought back to the party as he lay in bed that night, regret bubbling deep in his stomach.

-----------------------------------

He followed you around the party for around 40 minutes before he broke off to find Patrick. He didn’t mean to walk in on them, hell, they weren’t even in a room, they were doing it in a shed, it was fucking ridiculous. Partick had just pulled him in, he consented, sure, but he wasn’t thinking straight. 

“Pat?” Art called into the darkness of the night. “Patrick?”

“In here,” he heard giggling from the shed just a few paces away. 

He opened the door to be met with a very naked Patrick with Tashi beside him. “Jesus Patrick!”

Art looked up as the two of them laughed at his reaction.

“What, it’s not like you haven’t seen it before,” Tashi teased. 

“Fuck off,” he sighed. “I’ll talk to you later-”

“Don’t leave,” Patrick smirked. 

“Yeah Art, stay,” Tashi teased. Art felt so conflicted as he nodded his head. He loved you, he wanted to fuck you, but he wanted this too.

-----------------------------------

The second he left the shed, post-orgasm clarity hit him hard. He‘d just fucked Tashi Duncan (and technically Patrick Zweig watched). Your competition, the woman who hates you, the woman he promised to steer-clear from. 

Fuck.

He went to find you immediately, planning on telling you and letting you break up with him. But… When he saw you, so beautiful, that damn plum dress clouding his judgement, he walked up to you, wrapped you up in his wraps and kissed you as you giggled at his antics. 

He drove you back to your dorm and followed you inside, falling asleep beside you as guilt buried itself in his body. 

He couldn’t even respond when you told him you loved him. 

-----------------------------------

The worst part was that Art knew he’d fucked up. He knew it was an awful idea to try and hide it from you and he regretted not telling you the second it happened. He was aware of how bad this was, not that all the other shit he did to ruin you. Yet he still did. 

You were enraged. You were sick of letting this pathetic boy rule your life. You were done.

-----------------------------------

“C-can we talk?” he asked, cautiously approaching you as you ate in the canteen of the challenger. 

“About what?” you snapped. “You got what you wanted, you have Tashi.”

“I don’t want Tashi,” he mumbled, staring at his feet. “I want you, and I know I don’t deserve you.”

“You cheated on me.” 

“I did,” he admitted. 

“You cheated on me, then strung me on for 6 months, Art. You slept in my bed, you fucked me, you kissed me, and you promised me you loved me, all while you knew you;d fucked someone else,” you listed off. “Go fuck yourself, Art. I hope you choke.”

Art could feel his throat burning. “Alright,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. 

-----------------------------------

You’d caught wind of Tashi’s injury a week after it happened, and you felt sickly satisfied. Karma. 

You only saw Art and Tashi together, and found out they were dating a few weeks after they got together. 

You were sitting in your dorm when there was a knock at the door. You opened it to find someone who shocked you. 

Patrick Zweig.

-----------------------------------

art donaldson masterlist :)

navigation for my blog :) (criminal minds, obx, the bear, marvel, top gun, the hunger games, challengers :)

people who asked to be tagged :) @fkaams

[im-sleepdeprived]

do u think u can do a Peter Parker x reader where reader is gone for a while and has her phone off, and Peter gets super scared only to find out she’s alright?? I love ur work u’re the best xx

'No location found'

pairing: peter parker x reader

a/n: thank you for the request !!!! i had this written, then I decided to rewrite it lmao. I pictured college pete but Im not sure if I specified, also not sure if anyone saw my post abt writing a fic inspired by ‘peter’ by taylor swift but i think im going to start working on that and that its gonna be a mini series👀.... so stay tuned and request something in the meantime !!

warnings: none

masterlist, requests are open !!

“That’s not what I said!”

“Oh? Well, that’s what I heard.”

You two had been going at it for a while now. Peter had missed yet another date you’d both planned. It’d been a while since you both spent time together, and you thought he was finally going to change that. Until he just stood you up again. 

You’d thought after moving in together, you’d see him all the time. The opposite was true. He was always out, either on patrol, at Stark Tower, or wherever else his Superhero duties took him.  The problem was, that place never seemed to be with you.

“Y/N please-”

“No, Peter! I’m sick of it! I try to be understanding, I really do, I try to give you grace, but every time I do it’s like you just make it worse.” You sighed and ran a hand through your hair, “Honestly at this point, it feels like you don’t even care anymore.”

His face fell. “Come on baby. You can't seriously think that! It was just a mistake, I won't do it again.”

You nodded, “Right. Think I’ve heard that one before.” You turned around and walked towards your shared bedroom.

“Woah, hey. Wait a minute, where’re you going?” His voice was hurt, and you almost felt bad for turning your back.

Shaking your head and looked down at your dress. You’d gotten all dressed up, expecting a nice dinner followed by a walk in the park. You said, “I’m tired, I’m gonna change and get ready for bed. Sorry, but hey, at least now your schedule is freed up,” you gave him a weak smile, “You don’t have to worry about me.”

“Y/N you know it’s not like that. Look you’re all dressed up,” he reached for your arm, “we can still go out. Please, let me make it up to you”

Looking into his eyes, it took everything in you to pull away. 

“Peter,” you whispered, voice so quiet, yet so full of emotion. 

“I don’t want us to fight,” he begged. 

'We’re not fighting, not anymore. I just want to be alone.”

“Okay.” He nodded, but still kept his hand on you, reluctant to let go. “I’ll sleep on the couch?”

You nodded, not trusting your voice right now.

He deflated. He wasn’t exactly expecting you to object, but still. It hurt that you wanted to be away from him so bad. 

“Good night,” he muttered, watching you walk towards the door with sullen eyes. “I’m right here if you need anything.”

You gave him the tiniest tip of your head, not even bothering to turn around, “Night.”

There was no way he was getting any sleep tonight.

You slept in that day. It was Saturday and you didn’t feel like doing anything. Even after you woke up, you stayed in bed scrolling on your phone, heart pounding a little harder when you saw messages from Peter pop up, before effectively sliding them away.

After a few hours of doomscrolling, you stepped out of the room. You could see a throw blanket neatly folded on the couch, you have no idea if he’d even used a pillow. Your heart thrummed with guilt and you decided that tonight he was definitely sleeping on the bed. Or at the very least, you’d sleep on the couch. 

Walking into the kitchen, you noticed a tray with a note sitting atop a covered plate. When you got closer, you saw that the note held a cheesy breakfast pun. So Peter.

I love you a waffle lot! With a bunch of hearts around it. You couldn’t help it, you cracked a smile. He was such a dork. And you loved it. 

You heated up your breakfast and had gotten well into eating when your phone started ringing. Was it Peter? You didn’t really want to speak to him, not yet at least. You’d kind of hoped you wouldn’t have to until tonight-

You picked up your phone and almost let out a sigh of relief when you realized it was just one of your friends, Maddie. Then you felt bad for feeling relieved. 

You answered the phone. “Hey Mads, how's it going.” 

“Hi Y/N! Good! I was just calling to see if you wanted to go out tonight? Listen, before you say no-”

“No that sounds great actually,” you cut her off quickly, eager for an excuse to get out of the house. You’d been canceling plans for way too long in hopes of spending even a moment with Peter, and it seemed as if even your friends had noticed. But no more.

“Really? Great! So there's this raging new club,” she went on, giving you all the details of who was going and who might be there and you listened but barely felt a hint of excitement. You weren’t sure if it was because it was a frat party, and those things rarely appealed to you, or if it was lingering feelings from your argument with Peter. Which reminded you why you’d wanted to go out in the first place. 

“We’re gonna pregame at my place though, so stop by here and I’ll take you!” She finished, making you smile. Maddie was always sweet, a little more wild than you, but that’s what made you like her. 

“Sure Maddie, thanks for the invite.”

“Of course, can’t wait to see you, I feel like it's been forever since we went out together.”

You let out a small laugh, “I know what you mean. But we’re gonna change that tonight. 

You said your goodbyes and hung up. You needed to start getting ready soon, despite you just eating breakfast, you’d stayed in all morning and it was pretty late already. 

You got ready quietly, only a playlist you’d turned on droning in the background as you did your hair and makeup. You walked over to the closet to pick out an outfit and felt a little sad. Usually, Peter was here during this part, helping you pick out something, annoying you when he said you looked beautiful in everything. 

“Peter! I need real criticism!”

“Well, I can’t help it if my girl looks stunning in everything!”

You picked out a nice outfit you deemed fit for clubbing before grabbing a pair of heels and stepping out of your room. Looking around at the empty apartment you realized you should probably let Peter know you weren’t going to be home tonight. You didn’t feel like calling him though, and if you didn’t want to open his messages from earlier either so you decided to take a page out of his book. 

Grabbing a sticky note, you wrote down the briefest of explanations, before sticking it on your fridge and leaving. 

He had sent texts saying Good morning!, Do you need anything?, and another explaining he’d be out for a while but he’d made you breakfast, all in hopes of you responding to him. You didn’t, but that wasn’t too shocking to him. It didn’t make it hurt any less though. 

He knew he fucked up. He knew he’d disappointed you again, let you down again. He knew he deserved this and more. He should be grateful you weren’t giving him the more. And he was! But he couldn’t help the small selfish part of him that just wished you would let him take you out tonight, or give him something else he could do to make up for it because there was nothing he hated more in the world than when you were mad at him. And he did not want to sleep on the couch again. Sure it was uncomfortable but that was the least of his worries. He hated not sleeping next to you.

That had been his favorite part about the two of you moving into your own place, that he got to hold you every night. After a rough night of patrolling, or working too long on his studies, or a new gadget, he got to go home and hold you, get lost in your touch, and that always made everything better. And it killed him to know you were just down the hall, and he wasn’t with you. 

He tried his best to rush everything, trying to get all his work done for the day so he could spend the whole night with you. He was planning a movie night, bingeing all your favorites. He was gonna give you a proper date, soon, but right now, all that mattered was you two spending time together. 

On his way home, he stopped at a corner store to grab snacks for the two of you, making sure to get all your favorite ones. He even stopped at a flower shop not far from your apartment to grab you a bouquet and his heart fell when he realized how long it’d been since he’d done this. He definitely deserved the more. 

He knocked on the door of your apartment a few times and his heart fell as he realized you were either dead set on ignoring him, or you weren’t home. When he pulled out his keys and let himself in, he realized it was the latter. 

Sighing, he set down the bags of snacks and placed the bouquet down as he ran a hand through his hair as he walked around. He entered the kitchen and felt a little better when he saw the dishes he’d used to plate your breakfast were washed and on the drying rack, meaning you’d eaten. 

He was about to pull out his phone to see if he’d missed a text from you when he saw something on the fridge. 

“Went out. Be home late.”

His brows furrowed as he read. He didn’t know you had plans. Hell, he didn’t even know if you had plans now, your note barely explained anything.

All he could do was wait until you came home to sort everything out.

Peter could handle the silent treatment (barely), but what he couldn't handle, was not knowing if you were safe or not. No. That wouldn’t fly. 

He’d sent you a text when he got home, letting you know he got your note and to have fun and be safe. 

An hour later, he sent another text. Just as a little check-in. Still no response. 

It had been about three hours since he’d gotten back when he noticed that his messages had lost the little mark that indicated they were delivered. Weird. 

He tried to call you, he’d refrained from doing so before because he thought he should let you have your space (which was why, he assumed, you’d left in the first place) but it didn’t even ring, he just got sent straight to voicemail. 

What made him really start to panic, however, was when he went to check your location, which he felt so stupid for not doing before, and it wouldn’t load. It kept saying ‘no location found’ making his heart beat harder.

This was worse. You were ignoring him, his messages and calls weren’t going through. Something was wrong, was your phone off? Were you mugged? Or even worse-

He stopped himself before he could spiral too hard. That wouldn’t help, right now, he needed to figure out where you were and if you were okay.  He knew you weren’t the kind of person who would go out to bars or parties alone. Maybe you went out with a friend? Or maybe you were at a friend's? It was a place to start. 

He started calling your friends, people he knew you might go out with, and on the fifth call he finally got answers. Or…something like that. 

“Hello?” Maddie yelled into the phone, making Peter pull his phone away. 

“Hey Maddie, it’s Peter.”

“Oh yeah, Y/N’s dude,” she slurred. 

“Yeah, yeah, Y/N’s dude. Hey listen, is she with you? She went out tonight but she forgot to tell me where, and now my messages aren’t sending.” His pulse was racing. It sounded like Maddie was out, if the blaring music in the background was anything to go off of, and he was desperate to know you were okay. 

“Sorry Patrick, what’d you say,” she asked making Peter’s brows furrow. They weren’t exactly friends, but he’d met Maddie a few times. Enough times for her to know his name was not Patrick.

He shook his head, that didn’t matter right now. “Y/N. Is she with you, do you go out together?”

“Oh!” She exclaimed as if she’d just remembered something. “Yeah, she is!”

Peter let out a sigh of relief. 

“Or, she was.” He held his breath again. 

“What do you mean ‘she was’? Where is she?”

“I dunno, she left I think.” Maddie let out a little hum as if to say ‘too bad!’ and Peter was sure she must be extremely intoxicated, otherwise there was no way she could be so casual about something like this. He could barely keep himself together.

He ran a hand over his face as he tried not to raise his voice. This was getting frustrating. “She left? Where’d she go? Where are you right now?”

“I don’t know…she was bored I think. She was off today. S’shame, she looked so hot.”

His heart clenched when he realized the reason you were off, was because of him. You didn’t have fun, so you left, now he had no idea where you were and it was all his fault. 

“Where are you, Maddie?” He repeated. 

“That new club on 27th! Get down here Paul, it's so much fun!” She gushed and Peter rolled his eyes. He didn’t have time for this. 

He hung up quickly, not bothering to say goodbye before he got up to put his suit on. He couldn't stand the thought of something happening to you because you were upset and distracted because of him. That you weren't even speaking to him.

There was no way he was going to let anything happen to you. 

You were walking outside, up and down the sidewalk. You knew it wasn’t the safest decision but you didn’t really care. The club was stuffy, humid, and way too loud. You just needed to breathe, and then you’d go back. Maybe. 

You considered hailing a cab and going back home right now. You’d send Maddie a text, but she probably hadn’t noticed you’d left in the first. She’d been having a blast, unlike you, drinking shots and dancing with every guy she felt like. You weren’t sure she remembered you stopping her to tell her you’d be gone for a bit. 

On second thought, you were kind of hungry. You hadn’t eaten anything other than Peter’s waffles for you that morning and there was an amazing smell floating from a food cart at the end of the block. You could help yourself to something before going home. 

Before you could reach the food cart, you were flying. Or rather, swinging. You knew who it was right away. 

Just as fast as he’d snatched you up, Peter put you down on an isolated rooftop, leaving just you and him high above everyone else.

You were about to reprimand him, about to demand an answer as to why he’d just done that, but there wasn’t a chance before he was pulling you into a bone-crushing hug.

“Pete?” Your voice was soft, you sensed there was something wrong and suddenly any anger or annoyance you held, from now or the night before, disappeared.

“You’re okay,” he mumbled as if that was his way of an answer. 

Your brows furrowed. “Well…yeah. Why wouldn’t I be?”

He pulled away then, taking off his mask, and you saw just how terrified he looked, scaring you as well. There might’ve even been a little red rimming his eyes, making you wonder if he was holding back tears. “I came home and I brought snacks and flowers and I thought we could spend the rest of the night together but saw your note. So I texted you and I get that you’re mad at me-”

“I’m not,” you said, and you meant it. You weren’t mad at him, especially right now, seeing him all shaken up like this. “But what's wrong?”

“My texts weren’t delivering, my calls went straight to voicemail, and I couldn’t track your location. Y/N, I got so scared something happened and you weren’t talking to me.” He sniffled and your heart broke a little. 

You reached into your bag and pulled out your phone, but when you tried to turn it on—dead. 

“God sweetheart, never do that to me again. Please.” He looked at you desperately, “Yell at me. Fight with me. But please never ignore me anymore, I can’t stand it.”

“I’m so sorry Petey, I had no idea my phone died. I would’ve said something I swear. I never want you to worry like that.” Your hands went up to hold his face. 

He brought a hand to hold your wrist. Gently running his thumb up and down your hand he said, “I always worry about you sweetheart, it’s my job.”

You shook your head, “You worry about all of New York, I don’t need to add on to that.”

“No,” he said quickly, looking offended you’d even say that, “No. Never think like that. You are the most important thing in my life, okay? You’re my first priority and I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, that I don’t show that or say it enough.

“But I’m going to do better, I promise. I’m going to make it up to you because I can’t lose you, I need you Y/N.”

You didn’t reply, instead just smashed your lips onto his. His hands slid down to your waist, holding you tight. It was a kiss of forgiveness, of second chances, and new beginnings.

He pulled away first, but not before pressing multiple kisses all around your face. “Heels off baby,” he said as he knelt down and started working on your heel straps, lifting each foot onto his thigh before undoing each one. You didn’t even realize how much they’d been hurting until they were off. “I’m swinging you.” He picked you up swiftly, one arm wrapping itself around your ribs.

You groaned, wrapping your arms around his neck, “Peteyyyy. You know the wind tangles my hair too much.”

“Don’t worry,” he said, leaning over to kiss you on the top of your head, “I’ll be careful, c’mon.”

You move your head to peck his cheek and then hug him tight, “I love you.”

He grinned, pulling you in closer. “I love you more sweetheart.” He leaned back and pressed a quick kiss to your lips. “Hold on tight, Spider Monkey.”

You burst into laughter, “You did not just say that!” 

“Oh I totally did,” he gave you the goofiest smile, making you laugh again. 

“Ok, just…don’t let me go,” you said as you wrapped your arms tighter around him. 

“Never,” he replied, and something in his voice told you he wasn’t just talking about swinging. 

[apute11as]

Everything happens for a reason part 5 - Alexia Putellas x pregnant!reader

Summary: the world cup final holds some bumps and bruises.

Warnings: angst, blood, injury (all resolved don’t worry!!)

Notes: We pretend alexia played the full 90 of the final… and assisted the winner🤫and no R*biales situation. ALSO deepest apologies for how inactive i’ve been, i have been busy but… i’ve also been lazy i’ll try and be better from now on im sorry!! ❤️

⭐️My requests are open!

Other parts here!!

~~~~

Things had been a lot calmer since yours and Alexia’s phone call. The morning sickness and overall fatigue was ever present but the mind numbing arguing had subsided. Alexia still wasn’t overly impressed that you were still playing, as you were nearing the end of your first trimester. The management staff now knew about your pregnancy but after a medical checkup and lots of reassuring, they cleared you to complete the tournament.

The World Cup final was soon and you’d just finished the match that saw you get through. As the final whistle blew, relief flooded your system at the win.

“YES WE’RE THROUGH Y/N!” Screamed Mary, picking you up and hoisting you onto her back.

“I know I can’t believe it!!” You shouted back

The rest of the girls were celebrating as you remained on the goalkeeper’s back, her carrying you around like a carriage.

“Oi careful Mearps don’t want to damage the little princesa!” Bellowed Lucy, upon seeing you on her back.

You were pretty sure Alexia had threatened Lucy in some way in order for her to look out for you whilst Alexia couldn’t. You couldn’t go a day without the older brunette either piling extra food onto your plate, shouting at someone for touching you lightly or simply calling the baby “La princesa”.

——

Later that evening, you were splayed across Lucy’s bed, Alessia beside you as the two of you had decided to bombard the older girl until she agreed to let you come in. A Disney movie was playing in the background as you rested your head in Alessia’s lap, your hand absentmindedly tracing patterns on your small bump.

“Ughh why are my tits so sore!” You groaned

“I don’t think your wife would be too happy about me partaking in a conversation about your tits” joked Lucy sarcastically.

“oh shut up! Everything just hurts all the time now, my whole body just kills, especially after the matches” you whined.

“Old age feels the same” laughed Lucy.

“Well both of you are complaining an awful lot considering we only have the final to go, surely that’s exciting no?” added Alessia

“I mean sure it’s exciting but i’m not really looking forward to playing against my wife and half of our team”

“Yeah me neither honestly” agreed Lucy

“Ugh you’re both so miserable, we’ve made it to our first world cup final!” Alessia insisted

“I can’t wait to go home honestly” you began. “I mean obviously I’d love for us to win and this tournament has been incredible, but I just miss my wife and my dog” you explained, eyes filling with tears.

“Oh honey are you crying?” Alessia asked, pulling you into her embrace

“shut up i’m not crying” you huffed in disgust, causing alessia to squeeze you harder. “it’s the baby it’s not me” you sobbed

“look at that la reina is controlling you through her spawn even when she’s not here” bellowed lucy

“Piss off bronze” you sulked

———

Training leading up to the final was exhausting to say the least, and it really wasn’t helped by the helicopter parenting you got from half of the team, regarding the baby. The running joke of you “carrying the heir to the throne” caught on quick, even Sarina had played into it, which really didn’t help the teasing you were already receiving from the girls.

Alexia had managed to call you every day recently, inquiring after the health of her “princesas” and somehow managing to hover more than anyone, despite not even being there in person. That is how you found yourself, the day before the final on the phone to your wife, despite you both swearing not to speak to each other before the match.

“Yes Alexia i have been eating well” you huffed

“Are you sure mi amor? How is the sickness?” she replied

“Still exists but it’s definitely better now, it’s only in the morning so it’s not draining me quite as much.”

“That’s good bebita, how are you feeling about tomorrow?” Your wife questioned with a frown.

“Hey i thought we agreed, no football talk” you asked, raising your eyebrows.

“sí but i couldn’t resist mi amor, it won’t leave my mind”

“i know Ale but just think, after tomorrow we’ll be together again, regardless of the result” you smiled

“i miss you so much” she sighed

“i miss you too baby” you agreed

———

Dinner that evening was tense, it was evident that despite the excitement in the air at the prospect of a world cup final, the anxiety levels were also high. Even Georgia who was infamous for her inability to keep quiet, was relatively subdued. A strange sense of dread overcame your body as you realised your little bubble would burst as soon as the World Cup was over. Which was not to say that that you didn’t miss your wife because you most definitely did but you knew that this would almost certainly be your last game of competitive football before the baby arrived which was bittersweet when you really thought about it.

“How you feeling darling?” Questions Mary, lightly bumping your hip as she passed her plate onto the chef to be loaded.

“Nervous but excited i think” you half laughed.

“You’ll be amazing, you’ve saved us multiple times in this tournament. I know how hard it’ll be to be up against her but you deserve it y/n! Celebrate that regardless of the result tomorrow”

“You always know what to say Mary” you smiled, bringing the older woman into a hug.

You hadn’t slept so well since the tournament has started, sometimes all that was needed was a friend.

The journey to the match saw you receiving a good luck text from many people, one of which being your mother in law. Although you knew she’d be supporting Spain, as would Alba, you knew that the pair would be proud of both you and Alexia regardless of the result.

——

The bus arrived at the ground after a short 30 minute drive, something you were thankful for as that pregnancy travel sickness was no joke. You were seated next to Alessia much to your delight, the younger girl had been nothing but supportive of you the entire tournament. Ella and Mary were sat opposite you two on the table, playing a rather competitive game of uno.

“You ready?” Alessia sighed as she stood up.

“As ready as i’ll ever be” you said, mirroring her sigh.

“LETS GO GIRLS!” Bellowed Ella, the brunette forever having no filter.

You stepped off the bus, only to be greeted by masses of fans behind the gates, waiting to cheer you in. Many of those fans were adorned in Spanish shirts, likely hoping to get a video of you, Lucy and Keira as you noticed a couple of them with Barça scarves around their necks.

You smiled as you high-fived the row of mascot children to your right, carrying a bottle of water in your other hand.

As you found your way to the changing room, the atmosphere started to sink in as you realised you were actually at a world cup final, something that 5 year-old you had dreamed of since the day your idols Ronaldinho and Rivaldo had stepped onto that same stage 21 years ago.

Pitch inspection was up next as you wandered beside your captain with her reminding you of formation and reassuring you of your importance to the team throughout the tournament. You looked across the pitch and saw the Spanish team doing the same thing, wondering whether or not it would be appropriate to go and greet them.

Lucy being Lucy, beat you to that thought as she bounded over in the direction of Ona and your recognisably pink-haired girlfriend. Alexia was adorned in a navy blue tracksuit that proudly (or rather not so) displayed the RFEF emblem on her heart.

You wandered over, slightly more carefully than your counterpart, locking eyes with your wife as she looked up from her phone. Her gaze softened as it met yours, the both of you knowing that a conversation would result in tears, no matter the nature of it. Instead, you chose a simple hug, a hug that said more than words ever could. One of her arms was settled on your back, the other reached gently over your hoodie to caress the small bump that formed there.

“I love you” she whispered softly in your ear.

“Te amo” you responded, before breaking the hug and wandering back over to join the rest of your teammates, knowing you both needed the focus before the match and any further interaction would have to wait for the sake of concentration.

Upon reaching the dressing room, you began to change into your warmup kit, placing your hands where your wife’s have been just moments ago and smiling.

“Starting to show are we?” Questioned Leah with a smirk

“Hmm yes a little” you smiled

“How do you feel seeing her?” She inquired after Alexia

“Honestly relieved to be with her again” you sighed

“Well that’s good darling, we’ve got a game to win now come on!” She cheered as she dragged you by the arm, onto the pitch.

——

You readied yourself into position, you spared a simple glance at your wife, knowing that regardless of the result today you would end up in her arms and that thought alone was enough to calm some of the nerves currently enveloping your body. You glanced into the stadium briefly, scanning the crowd where your gaze met your mother and sister in law, cheering frantically. You noticed that Alba was in fact wearing an England scarf on top of her Spain jersey, a detail that made you grin slightly at her love.

The game kicked off relatively fast paced with Spain holding much of possession but luckily the majority of that possession was through their defence and midfield and far from your backline. The actual tempo of the game was relatively calm with the majority of Spain’s attacking opportunities being closed down through the talented midfield and sharp defence that England possessed.

However this all but changed in the 29th minute as Lucy made a risky run out into the middle and you were torn between covering her and staying on Jenni as she’d positioned herself perfectly onside, ready to receive any loose ball that came her way and likely put it in the net, knowing the talented feet of the 33 year old. Ultimately you stood your ground with Jenni, calling on Georgia to come back and cover. Before Georgia could grasp what you were saying over the volume of the crowd, Spain had regained possession via Alexia as she slotted a pass of pin point accuracy across to Olga Carmona who running at full speed down the wing, the wing in which Lucy should reside. Damn Lucy Bronze and her spontaneous spurts of energy. Your legs moved faster than your mind as you raced across the pitch, attempting to thwart Spain’s promising attack but before you could get there, Carmona struck the ball with a perfection that many could only dream of. You watched as the ball soared across the goal, straight at the right post and hit the back of the net as Mary stretched out fully.

The save never came.

Everything went silent.

Spain had scored and there was nothing you could do about it.

Your ears tuned back into reality as you watched Olga lift her shirt to reveal a message in celebration, you watched as her teammates, including your wife, rushed to pile her into a group hug. You watched as your own teammates sauntered back to the half way line in despair, knowing that your decision to stick back could’ve been the decider that cost a goal in potentially the most important game of your career.

Despite all this, you couldn’t help but feel a warmth inside you as you saw Alexia, the look of pure passion and happiness on her face, a look you missed seeing when she played. Your wife had assisted the goal to put her team ahead in a World Cup final and despite it being against your beloved England, you couldn’t help but feel a small sense of joy for the woman you loved.

——

Half time couldn’t have come any sooner as you wiped your brow and plodded off the field, exhausted from both the physical and emotional battles that the first half had brought.

The dressing room was tense, Sarina was in the centre of it offering a motivating team talk, a team talk you payed little attention to as all you could think about was how you selfishly hoped she’d pull you off at half time. You’d never ask to come off but if she did decide to take you off in that moment, you couldn’t help but feel you’d be happy for the rest as the pregnancy was seriously impacting your energy levels.

To your disappointment, your prayers were not answered and you were forced to likely endure another 45 minutes of football, despite the ache that persisted throughout your body. You gathered into the huddle of your teammates, just as the second half was about to commence.

“You alright y/n?” Asked Lucy, concern etched in her face

“Mhm just a little exhausted” you assured the older woman

“Well vamos chica let’s kick some Spanish ass!” Cheered Lucy, as the huddle broke up and everyone returned to their positions.

——

The second half started slowly with near enough no excitement, England has their chances throughout but none of them connected, hitting the crossbar or going just wide every time.

That didn’t stop Spain from fighting for a second all throughout, a second they might be coming close to.

Aitana dribbled through the English midfield as if they were cones in her training drill, leaving each one for dead and proceeding to boot in your direction. You met her run, using your body to shield your goal as she curved to the left, in an attempt to foil you but you stood your ground. Hands behind your back, body perfectly positioned as you blocked her powerful cross that would’ve found Jenni, unmarked in the box had it not been for your body. The ball went out for a corner as you let out a small sigh of relief which didn’t last long as you moved to mark none other than your wife on the edge of the box.

“Hola bebita” alexia grinned, in an attempt to distract you

“Shut up Putellas” you countered, causing her to roll her eyes and laugh from behind you, where her body was flush against your back, albeit a little softer than usual. Likely due to the precious cargo you carried.

Mariona aligned herself at an angle with the corner flag, holding one arm in the air to signal the corner routine.

A split second later she struck her foot to release the ball, a ball heading in your direction. You jumped and full power, in an attempt to beat a most definitely taller Alexia to the ball. Alexia jumper almost in sync, mind set on nothing but ensuring the ball reached the back of the net. However, neither of you made it to the ball and Alexia’s head collided sharply with the back of your head, causing a wave of pain to wash over you and your whole body to crumple forwards due to the shock, Alexia landing half on top of you.

You screamed out in pain as everything went black.

“Y/N!” Screamed Mary as she watched blood drip from your head.

“MEDIC NOW!” Yelled Lucy as the medical staff came rushing over to your unconscious form.

Alexia rubbed her head in pain as she sprung up at the commotion, met with the sight of her wife bleeding on the floor. Her pregnant wife, hurt, because if her. Reality kicked in at that moment.

“No no no no mi amor.” She pleaded “Lo siento, lo siento” she beckoned as she crouched down, eyes wide in horror at the sight in front of her.

She felt an arm grip her shoulder and pull her back and was met with the faces of Chloe Kelly and Lauren James as they shoved her away, screaming abuse in her face.

You’d regained consciousness as this point as the medics shone a light in your face and began assessing the wound.

“She’s pregnant” Mary announced to the medics, as they nodded with a look of pure worry that elicited a sinking feeling in the stomachs of those present.

Your teammates huddled close by, with concern present on all of their faces. Alexia fought her way back through pleading to you.

“Go away Alexia” was all you could manage before you slipped back out of consciousness.

Alexia’s heart broke at the sight, you blamed her, you thought she’d done it on purpose, shock set into her body as she watched in horror as the medical team loaded you onto a stretcher and stretched you off to medical.

“¡Quiero ir con ella!” Alexia demanded towards Vilda who shook his head and began lecturing her in Spanish. She protested consistently but eventually agreed to play the final 10 minutes, out of fear of punishment, not to herself by the younger players, should she argue any further.

The final whistle felt like an eternity later. Alexia having done nothing but fight the urge to run off the pitch in the final 10 minutes. Spain had won the World Cup but Alexia had no desire to celebrate with her team, all she wanted was to run to her wife and ensure you and the baby were okay. She was stopped by a firm grip on her hands as Vilda shoved her in the direction of the team. She shoved him right back, a moment she knew would be plastered all over social media later. A problem that could wait for the future.

As she was stopped again, Alexia spotted her mother in the crowd and signalled for her to find you and her mother did so, barging past security and into the tunnel.

Alexia slipped past everyone, ignoring the beckoning of the Spanish staff and bolted into the tunnel, knowing that the media would tear her apart later, calling her “cocky” “overrated” and “ungrateful” for her obvious disinterest in the trophy and general celebration but she did not care. The only thing on her mind in that moment was her family. No medal, trophy or football game was more important that you or her child.

After a frantic search she located you, accompanied by your medical staff and her mother and sister.

“Mi Estella, lo siento mucho” she pleaded, tears welling in her eyes

“I know Ale you didn’t mean it” you mumbled weakly

“No of course not amor! Are you okay? El bebé? Is the baby okay?” She rambled, ignoring the look of pure shock on her mother and sister’s face.

“We’re running tests now, just prepping an ultra sound machine” informed one of the doctors, as he squirted a blue gel across the gentle curve of your stomach.

“I’m so sorry querida” tears were streaming now “I hurt you! I hurt our bebita” she spluttered cupping your face as you felt the doctor begin to move the probe over your stomach.

“Ale no it’s okay, i’m okay look” you gestured towards the ultrasound machine

A steady heart beat filled the room.

A grainy image of your baby filled the screen.

The baby was okay.

“Oh, gracias a Dios” her mother exclaimed, relieved at the health of her grandchild that she’d only learnt existed moments ago.

“YOU’RE PREGNANT?!” Yelled Alba

“Sí lo siento for not telling you both, I found out during the tournament, we’ve been trying for months” you smiled, tears in your eyes.

The ultrasound technician wiped the gel with a tissue before printing out several copies of the image.

Your wife was unbelievably silent, staring, mouth wide at the ultrasound.

“Alexia” you called

“Te quiero más que a nada” she breathed. “I’m so sorry mi amor, I’ve missed you so much” she placed a gentle kiss to your lips, squeezing your hands firmly with her sweaty ones, before she placed a second kiss to your bump.

“I’m so glad we’re together again mi vida” you replied with a smile, touching your foreheads together.

“I so hope it’s a girl so she can be alba junior!” Raved the younger Putellas sister

“ALBA!” Alexia and Eli retorted simultaneously.

~~~~~

Thank you so much for reading this series, please send any requests in my inbox and any feedback too i love you all <3

[save-the-villainous-cat]

Hello!!! I love with your writing!

I was wondering if you could do a trope where the villain and the hero are dating as civilians, but when the hero and villain get into a huge fight, where hero is badly hurt, villain takes off there mask to reveal there lover!

“Fuck.” The villain had noticed it earlier, right before everything had gone to shit. A part of the hero’s mask had been destroyed. With blood streaming down their face, the villain hadn’t recognised them right away but when they had, they had pulled their punches.

They had wanted to throw up. To wake up from this horrible nightmare. But there was no escape.

Not when the hero was fighting with their bare hands and a primal hatred that was alien to the villain.

“Fuck, no. No. No.” The villain took off their mask and the hero’s eyes widened. They were barely breathing. “Please.”

The villain pulled them onto their lap and when they realised the hero wasn’t fighting back anymore, they were truly terrified. They were moaning quietly, sounding more like an animal than a person.

“I’m so sorry,” the villain whispered. They pulled their lover close to their chest and wished both had stayed home tonight. Wish they had put on a movie or fallen asleep in each other’s arms. “What have I done?”

Quickly, their sobs followed. Should they call an ambulance and risk revealing their lover’s identity? The villain knew the hero would never forgive them but even if this meant the end of their relationship, even if the hero hated them and wanted them dead, they had to save them. They had to save their hero.

With shaky fingers, the villain managed to take out their phone and dial the number. When the hero’s fingers dug weakly into their arm, they knew the hero didn’t want them to do this but the villain had no choice.

Their trembling voice could barely name the street they were on when the operator asked them for any kind of information. Not only their broken bones but also their rising panic attack made it difficult to think clearly. Once the person on the other end promised them an ambulance, the villain dared to hope.

Eventually, they hung up and prayed the next minutes would go by fast.

However, they only seemed to stretch like chewing gum.

“I swear, I didn’t know it was you. I — I would have stopped, I would have never done this—” the villain said between sobs. They took the hero’s hand and looked at them, the exhaustion deeply carved into the both of them. The villain didn’t know which bones exactly they had broken and which effects that was forcing. “Please, if you can hear me, please just…you’ll get help soon, I—”

The hero’s eyes stared at them, almost as if they were dead already. They didn’t talk, they barely moved. All they were seemingly able to do was recognise the villain and simply stare. It was heartbreaking.

It had been such a stupid fight. Something about some codes, the villain couldn’t even remember.

“I love you,” the villain whispered. “I don’t care that we’re enemies, I still love you.”

The hero didn’t answer.

So, the villain pressed a kiss to their forehead.

“I love you,” they repeated. “Please don’t leave me, please, I’m begging you.”

Their hands were holding onto the hero as if they were a lifeline. If they lost their lover now, if they lost the only person that could calm them down from panic attacks, the only person they didn’t have nightmares with, a person so unbelievably kind and soul-cleansing — if they lost them now, the villain feared they would shatter like a porcelain dish within seconds.

Was there even a purpose without their lover?

Wasn’t this the hero’s world and the villain was just living in it?

“I can’t do this without you,” the villain said. “Please.”

When the hero was still unresponsive, the villain checked their pulse.

Their eyes widened.

And then the villain started with CPR.

[deliciousangelfestival]

Nothing Has Changed - 2

Summary: Returning home for peace, you're faced with your tormentor, Bucky Barnes, who is now involved in your family's business.

Character: Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

Words Count: 2,143

Warning: Angst, Tragedy.

Chp 1, Chp 2 ,-

Main Masterlist || support: Ko-fi

Thank you to anyone who gave a like, reblog, and left a comment. It motivated me to write more. 

The one person who turned your school life into a nightmare will take over your father's business.

You never had any interest in following in your father's footsteps. Tom had told you from the beginning that you weren't fit for this work. And you hated the business; you wanted to burn it to the ground.

Even though you had never come home for several years, you kept sending your father monthly money. That money was enough for him to move and buy a new house in a big city. Last Christmas, you called your father and told him to sell the house, but he said nothing.

Something never changed: your father would put work before his own happiness.

Now you know why he didn’t want to sell the house. Because he had found someone to continue the business. Bucky Barnes.

Bucky is the popular kid from the wealthiest family in town. Everywhere he went, people followed him. His entourage echoed his every move.

When Bucky said something about you, his followers echoed his sentiments. If Bucky said A, his entourage would cover B to Z, and he never stopped them.

You once thought that he looked down on you because he was rich. But after moving to the city with Ransom and meeting many influential and wealthy people in the business world, you realize that Barnes' fortune was nothing compared to the 0.1%.

Now, you see him as just a regular person.

You sighed, feeling a mix of frustration and resignation. "This is a big mistake. I shouldn't have come back here." You walked past them, not even glancing in Bucky's direction, and headed upstairs to grab your things.

Tom followed after you. “Y/N, please, we can talk about this. I didn’t know how to tell you.” He knew he had been an absent father. After you left for college, your relationship worsened.

You only called him on holiday, and he was afraid to call you first. He didn't know how to start the conversation when he had the chance to talk.

You stayed silent, slinging your bag over your shoulder and holding your laptop.

“Where are you going to stay?” Tom asked, desperation in his voice. “From what you told me, you don’t have much cash.”

He was right. Your bank account was blocked. But you still had some cash and your Rolex, which you could pawn. You glanced at your watch as you headed down the stairs.

Distracted, you missed the last step and started to fall. “Ahh!”

You braced for the impact, but instead, you hit something solid.

“Did you hurt your foot?” Bucky asked, holding you steady. His voice was worried. He had been about to leave, not wanting to cause more conflict between you and your father.

You looked at his face, searching for the smug expression he always wore when he tormented you with his “silly pranks.”

Quickly, you pulled away from his grasp. You didn’t want to be near or share the same air with him.

You walked past him, treating him like he didn’t exist. Before opening the door, you grabbed an umbrella—a habit of always being prepared.

As you opened the door, you felt a hand on your shoulder. You rolled your eyes, turned around, and saw Bucky stopping you.

“Please, listen to your father first,” Bucky said softly, sounding anxious. Your father stood at the top of the stairs, speechless.

At this moment, you felt like an outsider. They seemed more like father and son than you and Tom ever had.

You pushed Bucky's hand off your shoulder. "Keep your hands off of me!" Your voice was filled with years of pent-up anger and pain, each word like a knife stabbing into Bucky.

You slammed the door and stormed off, your heart pounding with a mix of rage and betrayal.

Back at the house, Bucky and Tom stood staring at the closed door.

Tom sighed, his shoulders sagging. "Give her a moment. She's been through a lot."

Bucky, still shaken, asked softly, "What happened to her?"

⌚

At the pawn shop, you tapped your fingers anxiously on the glass counter, awaiting Mr. Rogers' appraisal of your Rolex watch. His gaze met yours, and he inquired, "Do you know how much it's worth?"

You nodded, a sense of unease creeping over you. "I bought it three years ago for around $25,000. With the current market price, and since I didn’t bring the box and certificate, the price will be lower. I would say it’s around $8,000."

Mr. Rogers's eyes widened in surprise at your precise evaluation. Clearing his throat, he mumbled, "Ahem, you're right. And because you’re Tom’s daughter, I will give you that price."

You quietly sighed. You had just arrived at one shop, and he already knew you. But what could you do? This was the only pawn shop open this morning.

"Wait a second, I'll grab the money for you," Mr. Rogers announced before disappearing into the back room.

Taking a seat, you fidgeted with your phone, searching for the nearest hotel or motel.

Just as you began to scroll, your phone rang. It was Maya, your lawyer. You had chosen to work with her because she was your assistant's friend. Money was tight, so you couldn't afford a well-known lawyer.

“Hello?” you answered the call.

“Hi, are you alright? You have arrived in your hometown?” Maya asked.

“Yes, I have. By the way, is there any progress?” you inquired.

“Yes. They already looked through it. I guess you could hear good news in 3 days,” Maya replied.

You sighed in relief. “I’m glad. Thank you.”

After a brief conversation with Maya, you ended the call. Then you heard someone clear their throat.

“Ahem.”

You glanced up to see that the person behind the counter was no longer Mr. Rogers but his son, Steve Rogers, who was also Bucky’s friend.

Back then, Steve didn’t say anything when you were made fun of. But he didn’t do anything to stop the silly pranks either. So his name was also written in your black book.

But now you weren’t the same person anymore. You were a 'female Midas'. You were supposed to be confident. Steve used to look at you as if you were invisible. Now you should do the same.

You got up from your seat and walked towards him. There was a stack of cash, probably $9,000, in front of you. Mr. Rogers was quite a generous man.

You picked up the money and stuffed it into your bag. It was enough to live here for 3 days before you went back to the city.

Steve noticed that you didn’t even look at him. He cleared his throat. “It’s been a while. Are you staying?”

You continued to ignore him. As you exited the door, you clapped your hands, making Steve jump. Then you muttered, “Oh, it’s just a fly,” as you walked away.

🏨

You left the pawn shop and glanced back at your phone to find a cheap hotel or motel nearby. As you walked, sweat poured down your back, making you feel uncomfortably sticky. It was the most strenuous workout you had in a while, just trying to find a place to rest.

Eventually, you stumbled upon an interesting hotel on the booking app. The hotel was located inside a big building that sold outdoor equipment. It was cheap and conveniently close to your location.

Sweat dripping down your forehead, you kept walking until you finally reached the building. You were impressed by the natural surroundings, with shops surrounded by nature. The building was named Bronze Adventure Gear.

Upon entering, you were greeted by an employee.

“Welcome to Bronze Adventure Gear. How can we help you?” they asked.

You were taken aback by their energy; it was still 10 a.m., and they were already bustling with customers.

“I’m here for the hotel,” you replied. “I know it’s early, but I just need a place to rest.”

“No worries. It’s off-season, and there are many empty rooms. We’ll guide you to the receptionist,” they said, leading you further into the building.

Grateful for the hospitality, you thanked them as they left you at the receptionist.

The hotel was called Bronze Lodge.

“We’ll leave you to our friend,” the employee said before departing.

“Thank you,” you replied, feeling a sense of relief wash over you as you tapped the reception table and waited.

“Welcome to the Bronze Lodge. How can I help you?” a friendly female voice greeted you. However, to your ears, it sounded like venom. It was Natasha Romanoff, the popular girl in town.

You felt a shiver run down your spine, a sensation far different from when you had encountered Bucky and Steve again.

“Y/N? Is that you?” Natasha's voice cut through the air.

You tried to compose yourself. “Yup.”

“Goodness. It’s been a long time. And you're so beautiful. Ah, where are my manners? Are you staying at this hotel?” Natasha wore her trademark smile—the same one you hated seeing back in school, where her girl gang would always talk behind your back.

"You know what-?" You were about to say, but then second thoughts about leaving crossed your mind.

That's when you heard the most enormous thunderclap of your life.

“Are you surprised? The weather is quite unpredictable,” Natasha remarked casually.

She glanced at your belongings. “Oh, and you brought your yellow umbrella. Such a nostalgic touch. You never changed,” she continued, her words like needles pricking at your skin.

You clenched your fists, your frustration bubbling up inside you.

“You’re lucky. There’s a room ready for you. Here’s the key. I hope you enjoy staying with us,” Natasha said, offering you the card key with a sweet smile.

You snatched the key from her hand. “I’ll try.”

Turning on your heel, you made your way to the elevator. As you left, Natasha's smile faltered, and she quickly grabbed her phone to make a call. “You won’t believe who checked into the hotel today,” she said eagerly.

*********

The moment you entered the hotel room, you threw yourself onto the bed, exhausted. You turned around and stared at the ceiling.

The rain and thunder outside seemed oblivious to your desire for peace. You starting to regret coming back here.

Closing your eyes, you tried to ease your racing mind. But four hours later, what was meant to be a short nap turned into a longer one.

'Knock. Knock.'

You were jolted awake by the sound of someone knocking at your door. Lazily, you left the bed and peered through the peephole, wondering who it could be since you hadn't requested anything.

You gasped when you saw Bucky standing outside. What on earth did he want? Wasn't it enough that you had already encountered him and his friends earlier today?

Taking a deep breath, you hesitated before opening the door.

When you did, you remained silent, not wanting to converse with him.

Bucky said, "Tom is looking for you."

"I see. Thanks for the info," you replied, moving to close the door, but he stopped it.

"What do you want?" you sighed in frustration.

"You have to talk to him," Bucky insisted.

Closing your eyes, you responded icily, "I'll talk to him when I'm ready. But I don't need you hovering around. I certainly don't want to see your face."

His expression seemed to reflect grief when you said that, though you dismissed it as your own emotions. Why would he feel guilty towards you?

"And how did you manage to find me?" you asked.

"It’s easy," Bucky replied nonchalantly, "since my family owns this business. I can access anything I want, including information about guests staying here."

There it was, the smug face finally making its appearance, accompanied by that cocky explanation.

You gritted your teeth. Somehow, the idea of being in prison didn't seem so bad anymore.

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